


Moments of Redemption

by akionna



Category: Dark Angel (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 78,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24118456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akionna/pseuds/akionna
Summary: Newly reunited, Max and Alec travel cross country, rediscovering their love for each other. They mark each city with gold stars, until they finally reach San Francisco. The short visit turns into something more sinister, with trouble finding them once again.As they navigate the underbelly of the city, Max and Alec realize that loving each other is the easy part. Staying together is a bitch.
Relationships: Max Guevara | X5-452 & Alec McDowell | X5-494, Max Guevara | X5-452/Alec McDowell | X5-494, Max/Alec
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10
Collections: The Het Big Bang 2019-2020





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Moments of Clarity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11372133/chapters/25459845) from the 2017 Het Big Bang. Direct callbacks to previous events.
> 
> Thank you Stacy. You read everything I write. Love you.
> 
> Thank you Emily for this fantastic art. You always know how to make Max and Alec shine.
> 
> Thank you Luci for this heartfelt drawing. You captured the essence of Max and Alec. Just wow.

Prologue 

He walked lightly, entering the quiet church, ignoring the elaborate stained glass, searching for the hidden areas. There, in the southeast corner, he spotted the Blue Lady. She had a whole section dedicated to her, enough pews to house at least 50 people. She stood in the dim corner, a few spotlights surrounding her, making her blue robe gleam, the red heart front and center.

He chose the last pew, closing his eyes, waiting for the Blue Lady to give him a sign. He didn’t have long to wait.

* * *

Mischa was excited—and nervous. His sister had just dropped him off, finally on her way to San Francisco. She had worried for him, not wanting to leave him alone in Chicago. But he was ready for this. He was going to make a new life for himself.

He was determined to prove that he could, away from his overprotective sister, away from the brotherhood, away from anything that reminded him of his homeland. 

He smiled into the sun, enjoying the warmth, savoring the light breeze. He walked up the steps, bowing his head before entering such a sacred place.

* * *

The man in the last row stared at the Blue Lady, thankful that he’d found her so quickly. Their escape from Manticore had left him alone—and feeling bereft. He’d lost his family and his home all in one shot.

He should have stayed. He should have convinced his brothers and sisters to stay. But he went along with the plans. Even when Eva had been killed. He had run, hiding in the woods, waiting for the guards to give up on him.

This world outside, it made no sense to him. But the Blue Lady had protected him. All he had to do was find others like him. He would make a new family, those that believed in the Blue Lady.

She would protect those faithful to her. 

He would stake his life on it.

* * *

Mischa approached the small altar, his gaze focused, his steps sure. He ignored the ivory candles scattered on the surface. He didn’t notice the shadows. He didn’t notice the man sitting in the last row. He only noticed the Blessed Mother Mary, her beautiful face welcoming him, her arms wide open, waiting for him. 

He knew that she watched over him. How else could he explain surviving the car crash all those years ago? He should have been dead. He’d been clutching his rosary beads, saying his prayers, when the semi truck had broadsided them. His sister had landed in a coma, but he’d walked out of the crushed vehicle without a scratch. 

He had stayed by his sister’s bedside for two weeks straight, holding her hand, praying to the Blessed Mother. The doctors told him to prepare for the worst. Even the local priest, he had stopped by, offering final rites.

He had refused them all. He ignored the sympathetic whispers, instead bowing his head in prayer, words coming automatically, eyes closed in reverence. He kept vigil until the day when he felt her stir, when he felt her hand tighten around his.

When she woke up, those familiar blue eyes searching for him, Mischa knew gratitude and humility. He knew that his faith had been rewarded. He knew what he had to do.

He had to forsake the luxury of his current life—and find simplicity instead. 

So he embraced his destiny. He gave up his friends, his family, his money—all the prestige associated with his name—and moved to a new country. 

Here—in the windiest of cities—he found his new home.

The Theological Seminary of Chicago.

* * *

He leaned forward, eagerly watching the young man in front of him. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a dark hoodie. He wanted to look casual, but his designer clothes betrayed him. He reeked of money, even if he tried to hide it.

He studied the young man, his dark hair too long, feathering on smooth cheeks. He blinked, eyes narrowed. Despite all the expensive clothes, he looked like a teenager. Using his superior vision, he focused on the hands, noting the youthful skin.

Dammit, he was just a boy.

He leaned back, disappointed. He wanted someone worthy. What would a boy know about faith?

Still, he hesitated, wondering—

_What if the boy passed the test?_

He dropped his gaze, unsure. Then he closed his eyes, bowing his head, asking for guidance. If the boy was worthy, he would be the first to join him. Undecided, he nearly stood up, resigned to leave, to find someone else. But the Blue Lady was watching out for him, just as she always did.

She sent the boy to him instead.

* * *

Mischa inhaled deeply, his prayers finally done. He genuflected before he turned away. He almost walked out of the church. But he noticed what most people would have ignored completely.

A young man, his head bowed in reverence, praying to the Holy Mother.

Mischa knew that here, in the United States, churches were mostly empty. That people, young men especially, were busy finding trouble instead.

So this, this was a beautiful sight. A young man taking time to worship was a rare thing. Mischa took a few moments, studying the young man. He wore an old leather jacket, some cargo pants—and that was all he could see in the dim light. But something about the young man drew him in.

He sat down next to him, waiting for the man to open his eyes. When he did, Mischa was stunned, unprepared for the man’s beauty. His eyes were a pale green—a startling color, unusual, and mesmerizing.

He forgot everything his sister warned him about. He smiled at the stranger, offering his hand in welcome.

He would not know regret until hours later, when he would see his last sunset.


	2. Bliss

Chapter 1 - Bliss

Alec’s entire body ached—his reward from fighting too many prison guards—and from loving Max all afternoon in the meadow. Who knew that little gold stars could be so helpful? He’d never expected their reunion to be so explosive—and still so tender. 

He smiled into the blue sky, lying comfortably on the grass, enjoying the weight of Max on him. She was actually snoring on top of him. It was cute. Except for all that hair of hers. Max’s hair had a tendency to either suffocate him or tickle him—he wasn’t sure which. 

He could fight it. He could ignore her hair all up in his nose. He could—

_Oh crap._

The sneeze was violent, shaking his entire body, surprising Max awake. She blinked a few times before shaking her head. Then she kissed him lightly before moving away.

“Hey!” Alec grinned as he watched her disappear behind some shrubs. “No need to hide woman!”

After a few minutes, Alec’s smile faded, realizing that it was too quiet, that Max should have been back already. He grabbed his jeans, hopping into them, scanning for his shoes, then forgoing them completely. He ignored that feeling of dread, convinced that Max was just taking her time, doing something—

_Doing what exactly?_

He counted to 10, wanting to give her privacy, wanting to give her space. Then his brain kicked in and reminded him—

_Max knew how to disappear._

Alec cleared the shrubs, hollering Max’s name, hoping he was wrong, hoping Max was not gone after all. 

* * * *

It didn’t take much time for Max to find her bike and her backpack. It took even less time for her to get dressed.

It shocked her though, that she crashed as fast as she did. That Alec loving her so completely left her gasping when she was alone.

This feeling of impending doom, it felt so familiar, almost teasing her, the memories just out of reach. Then it hit it her. The high from loving Alec—the loneliness right after. It was San Francisco surfacing and grabbing hold.

* * * *

Years ago, she had lived in the Tenderloin district, the seediest part of San Francisco. Homeless people occupied street corners, sidewalks, benches—curled under blankets, cardboard boxes, newspapers—anything to keep the unforgiving weather at bay. Drugs ran rampant, as it was the only way to survive the desolation of being alive, hungry, and alone. 

Max knew which streets to avoid, where people loitered, hoping and begging, desperate for a hit. That day, she had stopped by a meter, watching the flow of foot traffic, curious and bored. One dealer had assessed her, smiled even—but she’d already dismissed him, more interested in his customers. He’d been unafraid though, walking right up to her, promising her paradise if she tried just a little bit. 

She always thought her answer would be no. Mostly because she didn’t think any drugs would work on her. But she liked the idea of paradise, even if it might be short-lived. Before she could rethink it, she’d given him her hard-earned cash and snatched the little bag out of his hands. Then she’d run off to hide in her decrepit apartment where no one could witness her fall.

Except she didn’t. She had spent an hour staring at the small plastic bag, the white powder beckoning her, winking even under her dim lights.

She would have continued staring, except that the sudden pounding on the door startled her. Reluctantly, she had stood up, letting in her needy neighbor, the one who was constantly looking for a babysitter when she had to rush off to work.

She had dumped the hiccupping two-year-old into Max’s arms, never noticing that Max tried to give the child back. Instead, she noticed the pristine bag of white powder sitting on the coffee table. She pointed to it, eyes wide, her mouth opening and closing—yet no words escaped.

Then she managed a wobbly, “May I?”

Max should have said no. She should have pushed her out the door. Instead she nodded and watched her quiet neighbor grab at the bag, hands expertly cutting lines, rolling and snorting.

It was so fast. It was fascinating.

Soon her neighbor was leaning back against the couch, looking deliriously happy. Max stared at her, knowing it would not last. After being so high, she would crash—and crash hard.

It would be ugly.

* * * *

Alec spotted Max fully dressed, leaning forward, hands resting on her bike. Head bowed, eyes closed, completely still.

Whatever he expected, this wasn’t it. He’d called her a few times, expecting some kind of response, getting nothing but silence.

“Hey Max?” Alec approached slowly, making enough noise so she would hear him, so she wouldn’t be startled.

He was standing right behind her, and he heard it, her heartbeat too fast, her breathing shallow. He thought her frozen, rigid like a statue—but it was exactly the opposite. She was trembling, fighting for control, lost in memories known only to her.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what she needed. So he did what he needed. He pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her, inhaled the scent of Max—and waited.

* * * *

The toddler had fallen asleep in her arms, clutching at Max’s shirt. Carefully, she stood up, and walked into her tiny bedroom. It had just enough space for a twin bed and nothing else. She placed the child smack in the middle, arranging all the pillows, forming a small barrier. The child wasn’t going anywhere.

By the time she returned to the living room, her neighbor was in a complete state of distress. “I need more Max, more!” Her makeup, so perfectly applied, was now ruined, running down her face in black streaks. She had smudged her tears away, before she started pulling at her hair.

She would alternately cry, then hug her knees, rocking herself, murmuring words even Max could not decipher, her superior hearing useless.

Just minutes ago, Max had witnessed her floating in euphoria. Now she was drowning in misery, trying to claw her way out—so she could find that perfect bliss once again.

That was the thing—the one thing Max knew, that her neighbor did not.

Bliss was not permanent. The high from drugs could take you there, but it would not keep you there.

That comedown, that crash from such a high, from enjoying a few moments of bliss—was a powerful and painful thing. It could shatter you into little pieces. Because you realized how rare it was—and how you might never feel it again.

Max wondered if Alec’s love was like this, so perfect, so blissful—

_Was it a temporary high?_

The panic was building inside her, threatening to overwhelm her—when she felt strong arms surround her, his scent comforting her, his presence enough to pull her from the brink.

She blinked a few times, focusing on the bike in front of her, her nails digging into the leather seat. She could still feel the panic, just below the surface, and very carefully, she pushed it down, lower and lower, until she couldn’t feel it anymore.

* * * *

“Slow your heart Max.” Alec rested his chin on her hair, closing his eyes, whispering, keeping his voice low and even. “Breathe for me. Let it go, whatever it is, let it go.”

While he’d been telling her to breathe, Alec had a hard time following his own advice. His chest was tight with worry. She had been silent so long. And when he thought he’d need to do something more drastic (like toss her over his shoulder), he felt her lean into his embrace, pulling him even closer, her fingers interlacing with his.

He felt her body relax. She was coming back to him.

* * * *

“I like when you lean against me like this.” Alec kissed the top of her head, content to hold her, even if she wasn’t talking yet.

Max turned in his arms, her forehead bumping into his chin. She laid her cheek against his chest, eyes closed, doing what she always did—listening to his heartbeat, slowing hers to match his. Still she said nothing to Alec.

“I like this way too.” He murmured, nuzzling her with his nose. “I can see your face, your mouth—“ Then cupping her face with both hands, “Oh forget it.” He claimed her mouth so close to his. He needed to know, needed to feel her respond to him. The kiss started wild and desperate, a little bit anxious and needy—until it slowed down, until it was nothing but sweetness and love.

He leaned his forehead against hers, listening to their shared breathing, ragged, uneven—recovering from the intensity of their feelings. He wasn’t sure what had spooked Max. He didn’t care. He only knew that he needed her, in every sense of the word. He’d tasted life without her, and he’d hated it, raged against it, knowing how incomplete his life was.

He wasn’t about to do that again.

* * * *

Max savored every moment of love Alec shared, every bit of strength she found in his arms, every heartbeat reminding her that life was precious. She wanted all the messy kisses, all the heated words, all the comfort and excitement.

She glanced down, her hand resting on his waist, the titanium band secure on her finger, even now sparkling in the sun. She believed him, that his love was true, that it was a forever promise.

But it was terrifying too. It was the kind of bliss to feed her soul. It was the kind of bliss to destroy her.


	3. Reunion

Chapter 2 - Reunion

“As much as I enjoy being your eye candy—“ Alec flexed his biceps before dragging a white shirt over his head. “I need to get dressed.” He pulled on his boots, not even bothering to lace them up. “I have a surprise for you.”

Max only arched an eyebrow at him. Sighing, Alec simply picked her up and placed her on the Ninja. “Follow me, ok?” He waited for her to nod, to say something—anything really. The silence was beginning to worry him.

Instead, Max reached out, fingers digging into his shirt, pulling him close—almost kissing him but not quite. She lingered at his mouth, breathing heavily, watching him with hooded eyes.

“Stop torturing me already.” He whispered against her mouth.

Max kissed him long and deep, nipping at his bottom lip, tasting his love, giving hers to him.

* * * *

Max turned the key, enjoying the sudden loudness, revving the engine, her baby coming back to life. She wasn’t sure she’d ever ride her bike again. She’d almost sold the Ninja, but at the last minute, she’d bailed on the buyer, riding straight to Texas instead.

She’d stashed her bike, using leaves and fallen branches to camouflage it. Then she’d stepped back, wondering why, when there was every possibility she’d never return. She had shrugged it off, shoving her old backpack under the bike.

She blinked the memory away, focusing instead on Alec, watching him talk, but not hearing much. San Francisco was a long time ago. She could forget it, even if Alec was determined to go there.

Sighing, she followed Alec’s bike, realizing they were going deeper into the woods, away from the main highways. The wind felt good against her face, blowing her hair out of the way. When they arrived, she saw the old van parked beneath the shade. She saw Mole leaning against a tree, holding his rifle with one hand, and puffing on a cigar with the other. He nodded at Max, but otherwise ignored her. Instead, he jabbed a finger at Alec, already grumbling about missed check-ins and irritating females.

She assumed he was complaining about her, and seeing as they were never best friends anyway, she thought nothing of it. She shut off the engine, sitting on her bike, noting the two camp chairs beside the van. She heard a door slam, expecting to see either Dix or Luke emerge.

She was wrong.

* * * *

“I heard her bike! Where is she?” Original Cindy hopped out of the van, impossibly decked out in a lace crop top and tight leather pants.

Alec turned at the sound of her voice, grinning widely, pointing over his shoulder. “This means you can’t be punching me anymore.”

Original Cindy didn’t even acknowledge him. She made a beeline for Max. Alec watched her progress, hopeful that Max would finally break her silence. To smile at least. But she did neither. All he could do was stand in shock, watching everything slowly unfold.

* * * *

When Original Cindy caught sight of Max, she looked a little lost and abandoned. She wasn’t paying attention to Alec at all. In fact, if anything, it looked like she regretted her decision to leave her maximum-security haven.

But Max turned, and her gaze landed on Cindy. She stepped up to Max and opened her arms wide, her smile welcoming, her eyes bright with emotion.

As she crushed Max in a bear hug, she also felt her chest heaving against her.

Was Max crying?

Well, Original Cindy wasn’t gonna have none of that.

She captured Max’s face with both hands, careful not to mess with her manicure—forcing her to look into her eyes. She knew that Max was still hurting, was still unsure—and she needed to lay that mother to rest.

“Got nothing but love for you, boo.” Cindy dropped her forehead onto Max’s. “Nothing but love.” Even when Max said nothing, Cindy kept going.

“Stop punishing yourself. Enough.”

* * *

Alec wanted to give them privacy, but he couldn’t help himself. He just needed to hear her voice, even if it wasn’t directed at him. Then he flinched, as if Original Cindy had slapped him herself.

_Punish?_

Then he saw what no one else did. That Cindy understood the core of Max. That Cindy loved her unconditionally. He saw that he had offered that to Max—and taken that away. That when it came down to choosing, he had not chosen her.

And Cindy, even when she was held hostage—she knew that Max would not leave her there. She may not have understood White’s elaborate game—but she knew that Max had her back.

She got them all out.

And he punished her for it. He failed to go after her. He chose not to believe in her.

He chose to believe everyone else.

But Cindy had remained true to Max.

While he watched Max break, he heard her sobbing, and felt her pain. Everything that she was, that she would have shared with him—she did not.

He had only ever seen her cry twice—when she confessed to killing Ben—and when she had walked Original Cindy out of Terminal City. They had barely been friends the first time. But the second time, despite all their arguments—he knew that they had been friends.

He remembered that day clearly, when she’d said nothing, when she leaned into him, sniffling and shaky, burying her head into his shoulder. He’d held her, wanting to say the right words, not knowing what those words could be.

He knew that something had shifted that day, that they had crossed some bridge together. Even with his extensive vocabulary, he had never been able to name it. All words had escaped him.

He’d just been happy that Max had let him in. She was vulnerable, not hiding from him, not pushing him away.

She had not loved him then, but she had trusted him.

Now Max loved him—but she didn’t trust him.

* * * *

At first, Max thought it was a hallucination. It was nearly 12 hours since her last dosage—and just like she knew would happen, she was crashing. Her body was already sore, her head aching, her hands sweaty. Withdrawal was always a bitch.

Plus she was tired and hungry. That didn’t help matters at all.

But this—this was a welcome reprieve. Cindy was always a glorious sight. She took care of herself—and she enjoyed looking good. That crop top of fine mesh and rhinestones—that was new. And was she wearing leather pants in 100 degrees of Texas heat? 

She almost smiled. Now, this kind of hallucination was just fine. Cindy might yell at her, but she knew how to love—she knew how to forgive all her stupid.

Then because it made sense, Max got off her bike, walking toward the vision, wanting to get a little closer. Wanting to feel a little less lost.

Soon she was surrounded by the scent of wild jasmine. It was everywhere.

It was Cindy’s voice that undid her.

* * * *

Cindy had not expected to take the entire weight of Max. As it was, they were slowly sinking toward the ground. When it got to be too much, Cindy just let gravity win. Apparently, staying vertical was not a priority for Max.

When they landed on the ground, both of them kneeling and hugging, neither one let go. Cindy did her best to angle Max away from her new top, which was impossible really. Already her shoulder was getting damp from Max’s tears.

Because her leg was starting to cramp (she had landed awkwardly), she shifted away from Max, finding a more comfortable sitting position. She watched Max do the same, rearranging herself, crossing her legs in front of her—except her head dropped, her hands rubbing at her temples. Then she watched Max drop shaky hands, raise her head, and finally meet her gaze.

Original Cindy spoke quietly, in that no nonsense voice of hers. “The last time we saw each other—do you remember?”

Max’s body, which had relaxed into the ground, suddenly stiffened.

“I’m here.” Gently, she took Max’s hands in hers. She watched Max shudder, before she bowed her head in silence. Original Cindy did the same, bowing her head, touching her forehead to Max’s.

Together, they went back to that day, and the days after, when White had captured Cindy and Alec. When White had tortured Max. When Max had managed to outwit White and win—despite losing everything in the process.

Together, holding hands, Cindy offering support, Max clutching at a lifeline—they surrendered to the memories not long ago.


	4. Sanctuary

Chapter 3 – Sanctuary

Max should have been dead. The entire ordeal with White was designed to end her. She remembered her entire body rebelling against her, much like it was now—only worse. The agony had been ever present, symptoms coming and going, reminding her that even she had her limits.

She stared at the patch of grass in front of her, the bright green mocking her, the color a vivid reminder of White’s ultimate surprise. The death cocktail masquerading as the cure had nearly killed her. 

She had just enough sense to grab her med kit, even though her vision was wavering. With trembling hands, she had stabbed the giant needle into her thigh, forcing the adrenaline into her system. Even though she was expecting the rush, she had screamed from the pain of it.

Everything had a price.

* * * *

Original Cindy remembered stumbling out of that wretched warehouse, with only one goal in mind. 

Soak in the tub for a week until the stink evaporated.

Except, as soon as she’d entered her apartment, the bed had looked damn inviting. So Original Cindy just gave in. She collapsed on the bed, eyes already closing, promising herself a bath the next day.

She had woken up the next morning, ragged and tired, and still reeking of her adventures with White. But when she finally climbed into the tub full of bubbles, it took her all of five minutes to realize she couldn’t stay.

Max needed her.

* * * *

Max had found sanctuary in Alec’s old apartment.

She remembered waking up, surprised to be alive. Impatient, she had tried rolling off the bed, only to realize her mistake. That her body was working against her. That she couldn’t even stand up. Her knees had buckled immediately, her fall, the most ungraceful thing ever.

Still, she had caught herself before smashing her face. She looked at the bed, already wishing she had never moved. Then completely yielding to gravity, her entire body sinking to the floor, Max closed her eyes and decided to stay.

* * * *

Original Cindy had found Max that way, in a sad, crumpled heap. Pale skin, tangled hair, and the unnatural quiet—

She remembered shivering, thankful that Max was not dead after all. But damn, Max had sure looked like a corpse though.

Original Cindy blinked the image away, focusing instead on Max right in front of her. Maybe she seemed exhausted, but she definitely looked better than the last time she saw her. 

Her head was still bowed, her hands holding Cindy’s. It didn’t seem like she was ready to come out of her memories yet.

* * * *

Max had woken up, knowing she was on the floor, knowing she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t ready to fight. Hell, she wasn’t even ready to move.

Every part of her body ached. This was a new kind of agony. Even blinking made her want to cry. Still—this felt—familiar. It felt like one of her experiments gone wrong. Like when a particular dosage should have killed her, but came up short. The aftermath was usually more brutal than experiencing the actual drugs coursing through her veins.

This was her body punishing her for being so stupid.

* * * *

Original Cindy squeezed Max’s hands, trying to get her to come back to the present. Nothing happened.

She looked up, her eyes searching the campground. It was really quiet. Mole had stopped scolding Alec some time ago, and was cleaning his rifle instead.

As for Alec, he was sitting on the camp chair, staring at the ground.

Before she could even think that odd, Original Cindy winced, her focus shifting back to Max. Maybe holding hands wasn’t such a good idea.

* * * *

Waking up that day had been hard. While Max was perfectly content to avoid reality, it was the smell of Cindy’s favorite perfume that kept invading her dreamless state. Inhaling the scent of jasmine deep into her lungs, Max had finally opened her eyes, hoping that Cindy was real. 

She had thought it was Alec’s apartment that made her feel safe. But she was wrong. It was Cindy holding her, murmuring nonsense, taking care of her, asking for nothing in return.

Cindy was her sanctuary.

* * * *

Original Cindy remembered her last conversation with Max, before she disappeared for a month. It had been a failed attempt really.

Still, she said the words, even when she saw the flash of pain, even when she saw Max retreat.

She wondered if Max had heard her, before she walked out the door.

* * * *

Max did. She wished she hadn’t. She wished she could forget.

But Cindy was asking her to remember—and her memory was _flawless_. That was the problem.

She could still see Cindy’s worried face, her eyes gentle, her voice firm.

She remembered the panic—that she wouldn’t be able to handle whatever she said next. She was right.

“Don’t let Alec break you.” 

A few simple words, and Max suddenly found it hard to breathe. Because Cindy knew how deeply she had loved Alec, and how quickly he had rejected her.

She had almost left, without speaking, because she was a coward that way. But Cindy deserved the truth, even if Max was terrified of hearing it.

“Alec didn’t break me.” Max had stopped at the door, gripping the handle like it would save her life. “I broke me.”


	5. Promises

Chapter 4 – Promises

Original Cindy yelped, forgetting the strength of Max. She was about to lose circulation if Max didn’t let go.

“Ease up, boo. You about to break my new manicure right off.” Thankfully, Max released her hands, even though she didn’t look up. 

“Don’t dwell Max.” Cindy nudged her, hoping for a reaction. “Come on.”

When Max finally raised her head, Cindy wasn’t prepared for it. Max looked defeated and tired, her eyes radiating pain and loss. She realized that Max reliving the aftermath of White might have done more damage than good. 

“Promise me something.” Cindy carefully pushed hair out of Max’s eyes. “Ok?”

She watched Max blink furiously, trying to control any tears. She heard the uneven breathing. Patiently, Cindy waited until Max nodded, albeit reluctantly.

But that was enough.

* * * *

Max shook her head, trying focus, trying to escape the pain of remembering too much. She tried to remember that everything was ok now. That Alec loved her. That he had come back for her. Even Mole and the ugly van had shown up.

But it was Cindy that knew how to reach that hidden side of her, gently probing, offering love, but still holding her accountable. 

It was quiet again. Which meant that Cindy was about to say something big. Something she didn’t want to hear.

* * * *

Cindy knew that Max hated confrontations. Oh, she had no trouble yelling and beating up people. But anything that required her to dig deep, to feel, to forgive? Not her strong point.

“Stop hurting yourself.” She placed hands on either side of Max’s face, knowing she would say nothing, denial being one of her strongest traits. “You are better than this.” Then she pulled Max in close.

“Don’t you lose yourself. Not for no one. Not even your boy.”

* * * *

Max had been willing to take the lethal injection just so she could avoid exactly this. Thinking. Feeling. Drowning in all the fallout. 

Of how she tried so very hard to make a difference—and then failed so miserably. 

Of how she thought someone would love her despite her shortcomings.

She’d exiled herself, escaping Seattle, finding solace in the emptiness of the prison system.

Then Alec had found her—offering to walk the same path—just so they could be together.

Now Cindy was telling her something else. That she didn’t need Alec to feel whole. That she alone was enough.

All she had to do was believe it.

* * * *

The silence was worrisome. Still Original Cindy resisted the urge to shake Max. Instead, she took a deep breath and kept going.

“Gotta love yourself first.” There, it was out in the open. Cindy stared hard at Max, willing her to say something.

“Promise me.” Original Cindy pointed a sparkly pink nail at Max. “Use your words.” 

“Yeah.” Max exhaled slowly, like speaking was pure torture for her. “Ok.”

Suddenly Original Cindy grinned, throwing both arms in the air. “Thank you Jesus! Didn’t know all that could be said—“

Max laughed softly. “You had no problem telling me how messed up I am.”

“—without you running away.” Cindy squeezed her hand. “So proud of you.”

* * * *

Max took in the full beauty of Cindy, the innate confidence, the big smile, the even bigger heart. For the first time in a long time, Max stopped fighting herself, allowing a little forgiveness to seep in. She held on to the promise, letting the wisdom of Cindy’s words sink in, feeling a heavy burden slowly lift. 

* * * *

Cindy studied Max, seeing her release the tension in her shoulders. Then hating what she was about to do, she straightened her spine, knowing it had to be said. She picked up Max’s left hand, glancing at the ring, knowing that question would have to wait a bit longer.

“Max?” Cindy waited for her to meet her gaze. “Why’d you put yourself on death row?”

She watched Max freeze, surprise and hurt reflected in her brown eyes. Then she waited, wanting to hear the answer, needing to hear the answer—

No, she needed Max to hear the answer.

* * * *

Max blinked furiously, feeling another onslaught of tears. She was so tired of crying. She’d gone a whole month of not feeling—and now, she was suffocating in too much emotion.

How exactly was she supposed to tell Cindy that she deserved to be on death row? That maybe she could pay for all her wrongs—that way?

So she said what they both knew, what they never talked about.

“I have killed so many.”

* * * *

Cindy watched Max struggle with her words. When she finally spoke, when she heard Max’s declaration—she heard the anguish she tried to hide.

“But you also saved lives.” Cindy took both of Max’s hands in hers. “Right?”

Max only closed her eyes, refusing to acknowledge that little bit of good.

“So going to prison—that’s what? Your idea of atonement?” Cindy squeezed her hands, hard enough that Max opened her eyes, the brown depths swimming with guilt.

“But death row Max?” Cindy inhaled sharply—before letting it out. “How you expect to find redemption when you’re dead?”

She saw Max flinch, before she pulled her hands out of her grasp.

“That’s twisted boo—and you know it.” Cindy crossed her arms in front of her. She needed to speak her concerns—because who else would make Max come correct?

* * * *

Max hadn’t been able to name it—her need to somehow make things right.

When she’d killed White’s men in the warehouse—she’d felt nothing. More than anything, that scared her. She should have felt remorse, at least a little.

She didn’t. She was glad they were all dead.

She had had only one goal that day. Get everyone out alive. She’d accomplished her mission. But maybe she lost a little bit of her soul too.

She had felt no regret—and that should have been bad enough.

Then she realized something worse—

Killing was easy.

* * * *

Cindy watched Max battle with her demons, her fists clenching and unclenching. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she grabbed her hands, forcing her to stop.

“Not judging you.” She took a deep breath, willing Max to hear her. “But when you gonna forgive yourself?”

* * * *

Up and down—high and low. Cindy was taking her on a roller coaster ride—just like Alec did.

She had felt so good too. She thought she’d forgiven herself. But just one question from Cindy—and Max was falling apart again.

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to explain.

So she said nothing.

* * * *

“Hear me out.” Cindy squeezed her hands, hoping Max understood her sincerity. “You on some path for redemption? Fine.”

“But damn girl. It’s the same thing.” Cindy carefully let go of her hands, just so she could smooth the hair out of Max’s face. Then she placed two fingers under her chin, forcing Max to look at her—needing her to hear her next words.

“Don’t lose yourself.”

* * * *

_What the hell—redemption?_

Max shuddered then, staring into the deep brown of Cindy’s eyes, seeing love and faith in her. She didn’t know what to make of it.

How was she supposed to find redemption without punishing herself?

Volunteer at a homeless shelter? Feed the hungry?

* * * *

“Figure it out—but take care of you.” Cindy extended her hand to Max. “Deal?”

She waited patiently, matching Max’s stubbornness, unwilling to give up. She watched Max stare at her hand for a good few seconds—before she finally took it. Her grip was firm—it was a solid handshake—and the deal was done.

“Good.” Then taking Max’s left hand, this time she asked the obvious. “So tell me about this ring. What’s up with you and your boy?”

Once again, Max released the tension in her body, but this time she smiled.

Cindy smiled too. 

* * * *

Max was so drained. But she also felt a lightness in her, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Everything that she’d kept locked up was finally out in the open. She didn’t have to fear it coming out to choke her.

She looked at the ring, the thin band of titanium on her finger. She loved it, just like she loved Alec.

“He found me. Wants to go to San Francisco. So I can propose to him.”

She heard Cindy snicker. “Or he could propose to you.”

Max nodded, brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “Yeah, but you know Alec. He’s high maintenance. He needs flowers and poetry.”

Cindy squeezed her hand. “He just needs you Max.”

* * * *

Cindy leaned back, enjoying the cool breeze, despite the hot Texas sun. “What about Terminal City?” 

Max hugged her knees to her chest. “Might have a plan. Could make the news.”

“Sounds ominous boo.” Cindy glanced toward Alec, wondering if he knew about the plan. She squinted at him, confused that he was still in the same spot. “Huh.”

Max followed Cindy’s gaze, surprised to see Alec immobile on the chair. “What happened?”

“Best you find out boo.” Cindy watched Max slowly stand up. Before she turned toward Alec, she offered her hand, pulling Cindy up.

And when she would have let go, Cindy’s grip tightened, stopping Max in her tracks. 

She pulled Max into a fierce hug. 

“Find your happiness with Alec. But remember—“ Cindy leaned back so she could look at Max. 

“You are enough. You are everything.”


	6. Heartbeat

Chapter 5 – Heartbeat

Alec dropped into the nearest camp chair, not hearing Mole’s latest litany of missed protocols. Resting his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head, focused on the ground in front of him, seeing nothing, deep in the unexpected revelation.

She had allowed him to rescue her, and he was ok with that. The fact was, he knew that Max needed him, the same way he needed her. Maybe she was having doubts, despite the promises, despite the matching bands.

It hurt to think it, but he pushed the pain away. She had forgiven him, and while he believed her, while he felt her love for him—he also knew that Max was still hurting. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to win her back.

But the one thing he was sure of—he loved Max, just as she loved him.

* * * *

A wave of dizziness hit Max before she reached Alec. She paused, counting to 10, letting it pass, waiting for another symptom to hit. The aches were already fading away, her body trying to reset to normal.

Before moving, she took a moment to collect herself, the conversation with Cindy lingering. The memories had drained her. The promise had offered a cleansing. She wanted that. She wanted to start over. With herself. With Alec.

She studied his bent form, his unnatural stillness, missing his usual exuberant energy. Was he sulking?

It made no sense. He had pulled her out of prison, pretty much doing all the work. He had surprised her with rings, and spent most of the afternoon loving her until she was boneless.

Ok, maybe she had lost herself for a bit, when she got dressed, when she let the memories of San Francisco suffocate her.

But even then, he’d pulled her out of that hole.

He hadn’t made one stupid comment in the last hour.

He’d been incredibly thoughtful actually. 

She edged closer to him, hesitating on the final step.

Was he being cautious then? Afraid she would bolt?

So she had to make it right. She didn’t want him to change for her. She didn’t want him to change at all.

She would tell him. But not yet.

First she had something else to say.

* * * *

Alec didn't hear Max at all. First, she wrapped her arms around him. Then she leaned into him.

He froze in place, staring at the same patch of grass, relieved that she had come to him, wondering if she would finally speak to him.

When he heard her voice, it wasn’t what he was expecting at all.

* * * *

“Thank you.” Max pulled him tighter into her embrace, even though it was awkward, the way she was standing behind him, the way he was sitting away from her, hunched over in the chair.

“You knew exactly what I needed.” She rested her cheek on his head, enjoying the feel of his hair on her skin.

“You always know, even when I don’t know.” She listened to his heartbeat slow down, matching hers, a quiet rhythm.

Still Alec remained silent. So Max straightened, pulling herself away, unsure what to do, unsure why he was so closed off. 

She would have walked away, just to give him some space, just to give him the quiet he seemed to want. But she wasn’t ready, not yet. So she kneeled by his side, saying nothing, letting the silence encompass them both. She brushed her hand over his shoulder, smoothing the hair from his nape, fingers caressing his barcode. She stared at the little bars, the ones that identified them as misfits, freaks, killers—

_Run._

As if reading her mind, before she could break contact, she felt Alec stir, she felt his eyes on her—and she felt his warm grip on her hand.

He wasn’t about to let her go.

* * * *

Alec looked up in disbelief. Of all the things she could have possibly said, a simple thank you wasn’t it.

“Are we ok Max?” He stared into her brown eyes, wanting her to be honest. “You disappeared on me—“ He let his voice trail off. “You stopped talking.”

He tugged at her, pulling her closer, forcing her to stand, so that she wasn’t next to him anymore, but right in front of him.

“I hurt you when I left.” He took her other hand, fingers interlaced, their matching bands gleaming just to spite him.

When she said nothing, he closed his eyes, leaning toward her, his head bowed. “I’m sorry Max.”

He waited for her to answer. He needed some kind of reaction. Even a yelling-angry-about-to-beat-him-Max would have been better than this Max, so stoic, so careful of her words.

She pulled her hands out of his. That was her answer.

* * * *

Max stood still, staring at the top of his head. He couldn’t even look at her. And because she hated looking down on him—hated that he had to look up to her—she sank to her knees, right in front of him. Just so they could be equal, just so they could see each other.

Her silence had hurt him. She could feel his pain and uncertainty. So she did the only thing she could. She cupped his face in both hands, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones. She watched his eyes widen in surprise, colors swirling from green to gold, always changing. It was like looking into his soul, his love for her so bright. She loved his eyes, how they sparkled, how they teased, how they touched her heart.

He kept his eyes open, studying her, waiting—and she kissed him anyway, showing him what she couldn’t say, that she loved him even when she was hurting him.

* * * *

“Break it up. Original Cindy got better things to do than watch you two canoodling.” She sauntered up to the couple, for some reason, Max on her knees, and Alec on the old camp chair. It was an awkward way to kiss, but what did she know about heterosexual stuff anyway? Not much, that’s for sure.

“Save all that for later.” She pointed over her shoulder, Mole and his cigar nowhere in sight. “You done scared the troops away.”

* * * *

Alec was the first to break the kiss. He looked around, seeing the camp was practically abandoned, Cindy already walking away.

He stood up, taking Max with him. He wanted to feel her body against his.

“I told you back there, while those guards were on us—“ Alec pulled her close, hands skimming her shoulders, down her arms, then settling at her hands, fingers intertwining.

“If that was the end for us—“ He felt her heartbeat, a little bit wild, not quite matching his rhythm.

“Then I was all the way in.” He heard her catch her breath, fighting to keep calm, trying to regulate her heartbeat.

“I’m not leaving Max.” He cupped her face, leaning his forehead on hers. “I want all or nothing.”

“All the stupid fights, all the tantrums, all your insane logic—all of it.” He closed his eyes, willing Max to hear him, to let him back in.

“I want all of you.” 

* * * *

“I don’t throw tantrums.” Max pushed him away, arms crossed over her chest. She watched him stagger backwards. He was getting careless if she could shove him so easily.

“I panicked Alec. That’s all.” She put up a hand to stop his interruption. “Let me finish.”

“I spent a whole month without you. Thinking you didn’t love me enough. Thinking that no one loved me enough.” She played with the band on her finger, spinning it around, watching the sunlight catch it.

“I guess I didn’t love me enough.” She took a deep breath, looking at him, ready to acknowledge him. “You were right this whole time. I’m tired Alec. Going out on a slab was fine by me.”

* * * *

Suspecting something and hearing confirmation of it—those were two separate things. 

_Max dead?_

Suddenly standing seemed like too much effort. He needed to sit down. 

Alec leaned back, knowing the chair was somewhere behind him. Unfortunately, he miscalculated, landing on the ground with a loud thump. Now he had a sore ass, and for some reason, Max was—

_Laughing at him?_

* * * *

Max watched Alec blink in disbelief, letting her go, needing some distance. Instead of stepping away, he decided to—sit? Except the chair was too far—

She opened her mouth to warn him. She really did.

She laughed instead. Then she clapped both hands over her mouth, like that would undo it all.

She ignored his death stare and crumpled onto the ground, just so she could sit beside him. Then she leaned into him, dropping her head on his shoulder.

“First you let me push you. Then you fall over like an idiot.” She blinked innocently, trying to rein in her laughter. “You used to be so graceful. A unique creature unlike any other.”

Alec said nothing, his beautiful green eyes narrowed to slits. He wasn’t about to let her make light of this—of anything really.

* * * *

Alec really wanted to toss her out a window. Or just duct tape her mouth. She was really irritating him. More than usual.

Exactly how hard was it to talk to him?

He laid everything on the line. He gave her everything. And now she was laughing—or pretending not to.

She was too much.

Goddammit. He loved her anyway.

* * * *

Alec looked about ready to throttle her. While she would have enjoyed a sparring session, she wasn’t done talking. So she voiced aloud everything she’d been avoiding since she woke up and found him sitting in the jail cell with her.

“You saved me.” Max took his hand in hers, fingers lacing through his.

She watched him shake his head, dismissing her words. “From what, the guards?” 

Max found a way to scoot even closer. She let go of his hand, and throwing a leg over his thighs, she landed on her knees, straddling him. Fingers laced behind his neck, Max leaned into him, her nose brushing his, her mouth nearly touching his.

“From myself.”

* * * *

There, Alec heard what he wasn’t sure he’d hear again. Max being vulnerable. Max reaching out to him.

He felt her opening her heart to him, not just loving him, but trusting him too.

He claimed her mouth then, enjoying her surprise and surrender. He would never get tired of this, this overwhelming sense of loving and being loved.

When they broke the kiss, both of them breathing hard, Max looked a bit flushed and dazed. Alec had to smile, a little bit of joy and pride mixed in. Only he could do that to her.

“It’s Tuesday Max.” He felt Max shudder in response before she hugged him tight. “Anything, everything—you are my heartbeat.”


	7. Cities

Chapter 6 – Cities

“Do you think they reached Seattle yet?” Max fiddled with her granola bar, leaning against the tree, watching a random bird in the sky.

“The question is, do you think Mole survived Cindy?” Alec dug into his backpack looking for more food. He found some crumpled napkins and the gold foil stickers. Smiling, he took one and placed it on his cheek. He wanted to put them all over his body, but he was hoping that Max would get the idea. A few kisses would be nice. They were taking a break from all the traveling, weren’t they?

“I think—“ But Max lost her voice, forgetting the rest of her sentence. She blinked, distracted by the gold star. Then she realized how very quiet it suddenly was, and knew that he was staring at her, just waiting for a reaction.

So she gave him one. She lunged at him, covering her entire body with his, kissing his face, his cheeks—and that really wonderful, addictive mouth of his. She could feel the surprise in his body, then his surrender, when he wrapped his arms around her—and let her claim him any way she wanted.

* * * *

“I just wanted a kiss.” Alec murmured into her hair, gathering her close. “You’re going to kill me before we even reach California.”

Max snickered. “What happened to all that super stamina?”

“You happened.” Alec tightened his arms around her. “Now stop talking. Let me rest.”

Max settled into his arms, wondering how many times they’d made love outside. “What city are we in?” She lifted her head, staring at the freckles on his nose, across his cheeks, automatically counting them.

She squinted in the general direction of their bikes, looking for their backpacks. Hers was leaning against the tree. His was just a few feet from his head actually. Not too far from her. Slowly she reached over, trying to grab the corner of it, realizing she was just a few inches short. Frowning, she scooted up, bit by bit, until she touched the backpack.

* * * *

Alec was dozing. His woman had a healthy appetite, not that he was complaining. He just needed a short nap to recharge—that was all. But now, for some unknown reason, Max was squirming all over the place—on top of his body.

He could try to ignore it, but when Max got all squirrely like that, it usually meant she was up to something. While he didn’t think they were in any immediate danger, he figured he should at least be fully conscious.

He could feel her chest about to suffocate him, and dammit, was that—

_Her nipple about to poke his eye?_

* * * *

Proud of herself, and without waking up Alec, Max pulled the backpack toward her. Carefully unzipping it, she felt around inside, until she touched a smooth surface. Scooting up a bit more, she pulled out her prize, spreading the map open, smiling at all the cities they’d already marked.

They were still in Arizona, but they’d already passed Phoenix for sure. Frowning, Max tapped her chin, replaying their route in her head, landing on Glendale. Or was it Litchfield Park? Not that it mattered. The cities were right next to each other.

She was about to place a new sticker on, when she remembered that Alec still had the gold star on his cheek. Before she could even reach for that sticker, Max yelped in surprise.

Alec had latched on like a baby.

* * * *

Even with a nipple in his mouth, Alec managed to smirk. It was like Max couldn’t keep still. Which was a pity really. He sucked just a little bit more, enjoying the silence (her moaning didn’t count)—then gently, using his teeth, with just enough pressure, he bit her. 

He figured Max would scold him and jump off.

Instead she sank into him, apparently enjoying his mouth. He swept his hands up her body, lingering on her lush ass, before settling at her waist. Even though she was making those wonderful gasping sounds (and practically gyrating on him)—Alec released her breast and pushed her off him.

He needed to breathe after all.

* * * *

“That was nice.” Max let him push her, but she collapsed onto Alec anyway, shifting so that she could kiss him. She really, really enjoyed his mouth—especially when he wasn’t talking.

Her hands were already wandering over his body, down his abdomen, and when she would have stroked him (he was so ready for her), his hand stopped her. Surprised, Max broke the kiss, opening her eyes, about to complain—when she saw his eyes.

Mischief twinkled briefly, before disappearing completely. Then the green and gold swirled, the colors mixing, until they were just translucent. She could read the desire in his eyes—but something else too.

_Determination?_

* * * *

“Since you can’t keep still—“ He lifted a hand to stop her interruption. “We will have a contest.”

“If you win, I will do whatever you want.” Max raised herself off his body, that perfect rack of hers totally distracting him for a moment.

Shaking his head, he muttered, “See, you’re already moving.” 

He earned a smack for that comment.

“If I win, then I get to sleep. Eight hours straight. You keep forgetting—I don’t have shark DNA like you.” Max only sniffed at that.

“All you have to do is kneel.”

* * * *

“I will not!” Max shrieked, outrage making her entire body quiver. “I thought we were equal! Aren’t we partners?”

Alec just laughed at her.

Before she could punch the pretty off his face, she felt his hands lift her—higher and closer—until her knees landed on either side of his head.

_Oh my._

She so wasn’t expecting this.

* * * *

“The goal is to keep still.” He adjusted her knees a little wider, then pulled her a little closer to his face. He could smell her arousal. Hell, he could see it.

“No matter what I do to you.” Gently, he blew into the center of Max. He smirked when he saw her entire body shiver.

“Come closer.” For once, Max complied without a word. Alec could reach her with his tongue now. He licked at her wetness, just a little, to see what she would do.

She moaned, then sank a little lower.

“Keep still Max.” He let his hands wander up her thighs. It was a protective measure really. Just in case her entire weight crashed onto his face.

“I need to breathe. If you suffocate me, then no more orgasms for you.” He kept his voice neutral. His head was still ringing from the last time she smacked him.

He watched her, waiting for her to respond. When she bit her bottom lip, he knew the answer. 

* * * *

What a stupid contest. Of course Max could keep still. 

Except, except—

She hadn’t expected Alec to position her there—right above his face, right above his mouth.

It wasn’t fair, for him to lick her like that. Of course she wanted to get closer to him. So what if she sank a little bit? That didn’t count.

But she could do this. She bet she could recite the entire Gettysburg address without missing a beat. 

_Fourscore and seven years ago—_

Then his mouth was on her, his tongue in her, licking, sucking, and swirling.

Max forgot the rest of the words. She forgot her name.

* * * *

Alec could feel the tension in Max’s body. She was close, and she wasn’t even remotely still, her hips were gyrating to the rhythm of his mouth and tongue. She was magnificent, what he could see of her anyway. She had leaned back, her hands digging into his chest, pushing herself as close to his face as possible.

He moved his hands, his thumbs skimming her needy center. He ignored her small gasp, index finger pressing just lightly, before pushing inside her. He felt her clenching at him, wanting his touch. It was awkward, to have his hand so close to his face like that, but he kept the movements steady, in and out with his finger, his tongue also playing havoc, licking and tasting, until finally he gently nipped at the one spot he’d been ignoring—that small but swollen bud of hers.

He sucked and licked until she screamed, shuddering at her release.

_Finally. Now he could sleep._

* * * *

“I won.” Max was breathing hard. Still, she smirked at him, brown eyes dancing with glee.

Alec sputtered in disbelief. “You did the opposite. You lost.”

“My knees have not moved.” Max actually pointed to them. “See? I win.”

“The rest of your body was all over the place.” Alec looked a bit bewildered, not understanding why he wasn’t allowed to sleep yet. “You almost crushed my face!” 

Max laughed before she wiggled her bottom, moving her legs, shifting her body until her knees were on either side of his hips. She looked at his face, mouth and chin shiny from the contest. She leaned down and kissed him, tasting herself, tasting his love for her.

* * * *

Alec thought that she would kiss him before letting him drift off to sleep. He was ok with that. Even though she totally did _not_ win.

His eyes flew open when he realized that she was squirming (yet again)—only this time, she had readjusted her body, her knees by his hips, then—

He was inside her.

He could feel his vision waver for a moment. He loved being inside of Max. He just wanted to sleep—a few hours, tops. He should be enjoying his reward of eight straight hours, but the little cheater refused to acknowledge his victory.

They had ridden hard from Texas, crossing two state borders in 12 hours. Before that, he’d been awake 36 hours straight, pushing relentlessly, breaking every speed limit from Seattle to Huntsville, Texas—where he’d finally found Max.

_He was exhausted._

He slid his hands up her thighs, only to rest at her waist. She was leaning back, her hips moving of their own accord, her hands resting on his legs. He watched her breasts jiggle with enthusiasm, her moans a perfect accompaniment. While he loved Max riding him like this—it was too slow. He wasn’t going to last at this pace.

He was tempted to just close his eyes. But if he fell asleep while she was making love to him? She’d be pissed. He wouldn’t feel any part of Max for a long, long time.

He had thought for sure the contest would wear her out.

All it did was wear _him_ out.

* * * *

Max could stay like this forever. She felt him more, deeper inside, her entire body pushing down on him. 

Then she felt him tense his entire body—before he rolled, flipping them, pinning her onto the ground. His mouth was on hers, his tongue inside—effectively silencing any complaints she might have had.

He ended the kiss, one hand cupping her face, his thumb sweeping across her lips. She felt his hands skimming down her body, one hand cupping a breast before moving lower. Both hands settled at her waist before he slammed hard into her.

She gasped, then closed her eyes, giving up control, enjoying the feel of his body.

Except—

She was already arching into him, that tightness coiled inside of her, that familiar feeling, that build up—she knew she was about to explode—but it was too fast, too soon.

She opened her eyes, barely seeing him, stunned that he was blurring in and out of her. Max’s competitive streak kicked in. She met every thrust, blurring with him, their shared orgasm a surprise to them both.

Alec collapsed onto her, breathing hard. He touched his nose to hers, his eyes full of tenderness, before he kissed her mouth.

“Love you Maxie.” Then he was out cold.


	8. Oath

Chapter 7 – Oath

It was custom to look through the newspaper every morning at 6:00AM. There weren’t many papers left in circulation actually. So he enjoyed his morning solitude, glancing through stories, skipping through political highlights, before he carefully read each classified ad. Not that he expected to find anything, but he had promised, all those years ago—and he would keep his word. 

He shook his head, knowing that he had let arrogance overrule common sense that day. He had been walking back to the office, taking a new short cut, careless because he had dismissed his bodyguards early. Nothing ever happened. That day, he just wanted some privacy.

He hadn’t been paying attention. Soon he was surrounded, by men that he should have recognized from the rival gang. He’d said nothing, merely charged the closest one, knowing that he was at a disadvantage. He had no weapons. Only money and his name. But soon he would be dead—of that he was sure.

He took a good beating that day. Someone had pulled a knife on him, and he’d been too slow. The cut down the side of his face was a ragged mess.

He remembered staggering, falling to his knees. The men were laughing at him, fighting over his jacket, going through his pockets. Someone had even taken his shoes.

Still he had said nothing, as he was not one to beg. He was in a bloody business. Death was its currency.

He remembered the jeering, just before one of the men started waving a gun at him. He wasn’t going to outrun a bullet. So he closed his eyes, hoping the man had good aim, that it would be a quick death.

Then the unexpected silence—he remembered that. 

Surprised, he had opened his eyes, wondering why he wasn’t dead yet. He expected the men were just torturing him, ready to fire as soon as he looked at them.

Instead, he saw one woman was standing over four men, all lying helpless at her feet.

She had said nothing to him—only extended her hand so that she could pull him up. Then she left him so that she could retrieve his shoes. She gave those to him, her eyes sweeping over him—then bypassing him completely, so she could scan the area for more threats.

She had only asked one question that day.

“Did you deserve the beating?”

He had nodded, knowing somehow that she would detect any lie.

When it looked like she was about to leave, he finally spoke up.

“I owe you my life. I owe you my blood.”

He had extended his hand in friendship—and she had taken it.

“Your name?”

She had looked at their joined hands, both of them bloody and raw. Then she let go, but not before she answered him.

“My name is Max.”

* * * *

He shook his head. He still had a scar on his face from that day. It had faded somewhat, but it was a good reminder that even he could die anytime.

He never thought he’d see her again—his dark angel Max. But he’d walked into the old diner across from his club, needing to escape the noise and lights. He’s sat at the counter, waiting for his coffee, when he felt someone watching him.

He hadn’t noticed anyone else in the diner, but there she was, in the corner booth, so eerily still. She’d met his gaze without blinking. Then she raised her mug to salute him—before she turned away, effectively dismissing him.

He’d never been dismissed before. It was a novel concept. People usually avoided him altogether or groveled for mercy.

He approached her booth, wondering if she would reject his company, knowing she didn’t fear him like normal people did. He stood by her table, gesturing at the empty seat across from her. “May I?”

She had shrugged—and he wasn’t sure if that was yes or no. He had sat down anyway.

Then he asked the one question that had been haunting him all week. 

“They were about to kill me. Why didn’t you kill them?”

Her reaction had surprised him. She had laughed heartily, before patting his hand. “Why take that away from you?” Then she had leaned in, whispering, even though no one was near them. “You did find them right?”

“You understand my vengeance?” He had been stunned. She had saved the kill for him?

She had only stared at him, her gaze solemn.

“Did you know those men?” Then he caught a smile—and a glint of danger in her eyes.

“Are you in the same business as them?” She leaned forward, waiting for the answer.

“No. But they want my territories. Someone has been …” His voice trailed off, unsure how much to explain.

“Damaging their properties?” She leaned back, watching him thoughtfully.

“Burning down their brothels.” He raised an eyebrow. “Was that you?”

“Sometimes I get bored.” Max said with a straight face.

He laughed, imagining Max taking on the ruthless Sokolov gang. “So you destroy their business. But spare their lives?” That was interesting. He studied her face, the expressive brown eyes, the flawless skin, the perfect mouth. Too bad he wasn’t attracted to her.

“For now.” She shrugged, dark eyes unreadable. “I try to save the girls, as many as I can.”

“Why?” He saw her eyes narrow. “I mean, why let those men live?” Then he took a risk—recognizing her darkness—wondering if she would admit anything. “You have killed before.”

She had stiffened then. But she didn’t look away, her gaze steady on his. “I am not killing now.”

That simple statement had been irresistible. Any smart man would have known to back off—to let Max keep her secrets. But he continued anyway.

“You seek … redemption?” He did not know that few challenged Max. Still, he was curious and unafraid. He hadn’t spoken to anyone as an equal in a long time. He ruled by fear. And Max didn’t look like she’d fear him even if he had a gun to her head.

* * * *

“What do you want?” Max had looked at him, tilting her head, assessing him before he even answered.

“With your unique skill set—“ He watched her raise an eyebrow. “I would like to offer you a job.”

Then it was her turn to laugh. “You need buildings burnt down?” She tucked some hair behind her ears. “I’m already doing those for free.”

“I need information. I suspect you know how to get in and out of buildings without being seen.” He waited for her reply. But she only stared him, neither confirming nor denying anything.

“$5,000 for each job. All expenses paid of course.” Instead of her eyes lighting up with greed, her entire demeanor shut down.

“$10,000 then.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake. The easy conversation between them was no more.

He watched her stand up, knowing that he wouldn’t see her after this. That he’d insulted her without meaning to.

“You are negotiating with me?” Then she had leaned into his space, her hair falling forward—and instead of fearing her, he remembered thinking that she smelled divine. “Is that what your life is worth today? $10,000?”

He’d placed a hand over hers, feeling her surprise, ignoring the warning in her eyes. “I should already be dead. My life is yours. We have a blood oath, do we not?”

She had said nothing. But she sat down, carefully pulling her hand out of his.

“Forgive me please. English is not my first language.” Then he had lapsed in his native tongue, the Russian flowing freely, wondering if she understood.

She didn’t even flicker an eyelash.

“I will help you in any way I can.” He switched back to English. “All I have is money. So I offered.”

“We shook bloody hands that day.” Max narrowed her eyes at him. “Not a blood oath.”

So he took out his knife, quickly slicing open his palm, then extending his hand to her. The blood trickled, dripping onto the table, a deep red.

“I give you my word. I will protect you, if you need it. You have pride, so I will not give you money. But I will offer you jobs, which you can ignore. If I have it, I will give it—you only have to ask.” He waited, his hand steady, knowing that her next move would either sever all ties—or forge a deeper bond between them.

She picked up his knife, slicing open her palm—all the while, never taking her eyes off him. Then she took his hand, her grip firm—her strength more than even he imagined. “I will tell you first, before I burn your buildings down.”

He had thrown back his head in laughter. His dark angel had a wicked sense of humor. All he had to do was stay on her good side.

* * * *

He took a sip of steaming black coffee, tasting the bitterness, enjoying the hit of caffeine.

He almost missed it. He was about to set aside the paper, when he noticed the odd spacing, the uneven font. He studied the message, knowing that it had to be her. He set down the mug on his desk. She would be back to San Francisco in two days.

He had much to do before her arrival.


	9. Resolve

Chapter 8 – Resolve

“We’re in the city of angels.” Alec parked his bike beneath the shade. “Just eight hours from San Francisco.” He stayed on his seat, watching Max shut off her engine, parking right next to him.

Then he realized that Max was fidgeting, usually a sign she was about to say something he wouldn’t like. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to speak, counting slowly, just so he could remain calm.

When she did speak, Alec thought he’d heard wrong. 

Did she just say financial advisor?

In what universe did Max actually know those words?

* * * *

Max looked at him, wondering how much she could say. It wasn’t like she was trying to hide anything. It was more that she didn’t feel like explaining much. 

“You know, a money guy?”

Alec was eerily quiet, staring at her like she’d sprouted another head.

She sighed, resigned to explaining at least some of her past. Even though she didn’t want to.

* * * *

Alec knew that Max was not the forthcoming type. In fact, it was damn near impossible to get the woman to volunteer useful information. So whatever she meant by “financial advisor” was definitely suspicious.

He waited (impatiently) for Max to add more description. Except being Max, she seemed to be taking her time. When he thought he’d have to do something drastic (like withhold future sex), Max decided to put him out of his misery.

She started talking about San Francisco.

* * * *

“I lived there before Seattle, running small scams, nothing to get on anyone’s radar.” Max remembered the crowded streets, the constant traffic, the incessant fog.

“Then one day, I came across this guy who needed some help.” She looked at Alec, his gaze intense, the green unwavering.

“We became friends—sort of.” Oh, he didn’t like that one. She was pretty sure he twitched a little.

“I did some jobs for him.” He definitely twitched on that one. 

He had never liked when she did jobs for Logan. 

He certainly wasn’t going to like what came next.

* * * *

“This was pre-Logan era?” She gave him a dirty look for that comment. That didn’t stop him from talking though. “So you were helping out the little people way back when?”

Then she tried to explain that she mostly stole information from rival companies—and it all just sounded odd. Like she really wanted him to believe it all just trivial.

Except—Max never settled for trivial. If anything, the woman had a knack for breaking rules and starting revolutions. Max knew how to make an impact. So the fact that she was dismissing her history was entirely suspicious.

Alec listened anyway, but he was more watching Max’s face, her body language. She was so very still, like she was afraid to give anything away.

But he saw her bite the inside of her cheek, something she did when she was considering options, considering exactly how much truth to share.

So she wasn’t lying. But she wasn’t telling him everything.

Why?

* * * *

Suddenly Max was tired. She really didn’t know how to explain her ex-boss. She didn’t even want to try.

She looked at Alec, sitting across from her, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

Dammit, he already figured it out.

Sighing, she gave up. “You’ll meet him tomorrow.”

* * * *

It was a weird conversation. Max trying to explain but doing a thoroughly lousy job of it.

Meeting an old boss was no big deal. But something about the guy was off. Something Max did not want him to know.

He wanted to push for more details, but he knew she would hedge. She already looked like she wanted to bolt from the conversation. And the irony was—

_She started the conversation._

* * * *

Max looked at Alec, knowing that he wasn’t happy with her explanation. Hell, she wasn’t happy with it. She should have just kept her mouth shut. She either needed to practice being honest or just forget trying completely.

Then because she didn’t know what else to do, she walked toward him, her arms already wrapping around his waist, her head resting on his chest. She closed her eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat, the rhythm calming her down.

It made her feel better, to be this close to him, even if they weren’t talking—even if they didn’t understand each other.

He felt stiff to her—like he wanted more, but didn’t know how to ask for it. Then with a quiet sigh, he yielded, his arms pulling her even closer. She felt him kiss the top of her head before she heard his deep voice make a promise to her.

“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.”

Her chest had seized up then, knowing what he wasn’t saying.

She looked up then, his eyes a wonderful mix of green and gold, his sincerity shining bright. Then she saw something more, something unexpected.

_Resolve._

She knew that he was strong enough to stand by her side, despite the consequences. That, more than anything, made her realize how much was at risk. After the hell and back journey, Max knew that they were still fragile. Love was an everyday thing—something they earned.

She pulled his mouth toward hers, tasting the love that they worked so hard for—knowing that they would keep fighting—until they couldn’t fight anymore.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. If anything, she could feel some of his frustration, his anger, at not knowing exactly what was waiting for them in San Francisco. But she welcomed it all. Alec wasn’t happy with her, but he loved her anyway.

That was enough. Sometimes it was more than she could handle.


	10. Cherry

Chapter 9 – Cherry

Alec did not like San Francisco. It was cold and dreary, like sunshine was decidedly against the law. Plus, Max never did explain her boss. She had only muttered a cryptic, “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

Which just made him cranky because now she was explaining _even less._

Still Alec pulled her in, draping his arm over her shoulder. He bent close to kiss the top of her head, but really, he was scanning the area, noting who was in front of them, behind them, and anywhere near them. People were everywhere—either walking too fast (or too slow), or sitting against a wall (begging for change) … and was that a guy sleeping inside a torn box?

They were on Broadway Street—and if in New York they would have seen many theaters—it was quite the opposite in San Francisco. He’d lost track of the numerous nightclubs, bars, and other adult shops they’d passed. He wasn’t interested, so he wasn’t paying attention. But when he realized that they weren’t seeing any other types of business—then it hit him.

When Alec figured it out, he hissed in disbelief. Even worse, Max seemed to be walking like it was nothing at all.

* * * *

Max felt the change in Alec’s body. He was deceptively relaxed while they had walked the last few blocks. But when she felt the sudden tension, she knew—and she waited for Alec to say it.

* * * *

“Is this the—“ Alec looked around carefully. “—red light district?”

Max pulled at him and kept walking. “It’s just up ahead.”

He thought she’d pop into the biggest and tackiest strip club. Instead, she dragged them into a worn out diner across the street.

He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or disappointed.

* * * *

Max pushed at the door, hearing the overhead bell tinkle, memories rushing to meet her. The inside was the same—with the old wooden bar stools, the crooked photographs on the wall, the plastic menus scattered on the counter.

She turned to her favorite corner booth, the one by the front window. Automatically, she started walking in that direction. Then she heard a familiar voice—and she was smiling before she even turned around.

“Max, is that you?” A petite waitress came through swinging doors, holding more menus. Then she squealed, before she dropped the menus, rushing toward Max.

* * * *

Alec winced at the high pitch coming from such a small person. She had long blonde hair, a slim build—and that was all he could tell. The two of them were talking a mile a minute. He liked that corner booth though—and just as he was about to stake his claim, he felt Max grab his arm.

“Alec, this is Cherry.” Max practically beamed at him. “My very first friend right after …”

“School?” Alec finished for her. He smiled, extending his hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

Cherry reached out to shake his hand before she froze, her blue eyes wide with shock.

He heard Max mutter, “Dammit.”

What did he do now?

* * * *

Max forgot the effect Alec had on women. Well anyone really. He wasn’t even trying, and she was pretty sure that Cherry was about to faint just from looking at him.

She pushed Alec toward the booth, which made him stumble—and what language was he cursing in now? 

She smiled at Cherry, hoping that she would quit swooning over Alec. “Two coffees. And dessert please. Whatever you just made.”

Did Cherry hear the request? She still looked a bit glazed when she walked away.

* * * *

“Seriously Max. Sometimes you’re just rude.” Alec sniffed when he sat down, his back to the wall, with perfect view to the front door, the kitchen—and all the other patrons in the diner.

Not that there were many people in the diner. Only one other person was there, at the opposite end, reading the paper.

Alec studied the older man, noting the worn shoes, the baseball cap, the half-eaten meal. He didn’t seem a threat, so he dismissed him.

When Cherry showed up with the coffee, he flashed a quick smile, not noticing her blushing. He only noticed the tray of goodies. She placed the mugs on the table, plus two plates of dessert. One looked like a brownie—and the other one, he wasn’t sure. It resembled broken pastry … with red goo spilling out of it.

“What is this?” He poked at the suspicious dessert with his fork. Max just smiled and took his fork. She took a big bite of pastry and goo, moaning with pleasure, eyes twinkling with merriment.

He snatched his fork back. “Mine!” Then he took a big bite himself. He expected that Max had been exaggerating, but damn, it was good. He shoveled the rest of the dessert into his mouth.

He never noticed that Max signaled for more, only that the dessert plates never seemed to stop.

* * * *

Max watched Alec go through all the pie from the display stand. So far he had sampled blueberry, apple, and cherry. He was like a little kid.

“What’s your favorite?” She asked him, as he licked his fork.

“Cherry, definitely cherry. I love that stuff. More than you maybe.” Then he winked at her, even when she kicked him under the table.

* * * *

Alec sat back, rubbing his tummy in satisfaction. “I love cherry pie.” Then leaning forward, he tugged at her hand. “Is there more?”

She shook her head, but didn’t answer him. Was she thinking of her days when she lived here? Would she finally tell him about this mystery boss?

Before he could ask her anything, he felt the change in atmosphere. It was subtle, but he felt it. He looked up, surprised to find the diner empty. Even the bubbly waitress was gone.

Hell. The other shoe was about to drop.

* * * *

Cherry had been Max’s first friend when she’d arrived in San Francisco. She had walked into the diner that day—at the end of her rope. She was tired and hungry—but mostly she just wanted to get out of the cold, cold weather. 

She hadn’t had enough money for food, much less a cup of coffee. But Cherry had taken one look at an exhausted Max, and without question, she had placed a stack of pancakes in front of her. Then she had poured orange juice, milk, and coffee—as if she couldn’t decide on a beverage, so she had given Max all three.

Cherry had shown her kindness, expecting nothing in return. Before Cindy had shown up in her life, Cherry had offered friendship—teaching her that good people still existed in the world.

* * * *

Alec hated surprises. He expected Max would be concerned about the sudden silence, but she was in her own world. She kept sipping her coffee, looking out the window—like San Francisco had the most fascinating sidewalks.

He pulled his gun from his waistband and released the safety. He let it rest on his thigh, carefully trained on the front door.

* * * *

Max saw what most would have never have noticed. A door open, a quick flash of movement, a big man light on his feet.

He knew she was here. 

She felt the tension in Alec. He was alert now—the sugar rush forgotten. He was ready for whatever stepped through the door.

She wasn’t sure if she was.

Things were already set in motion. None of which she had even explained to Alec. She ran her finger over the rim of the mug. It wasn’t too late. She could back out. She could find another way right?

The bell tinkled, and the door opened.

It wasn’t him. He’d sent his messenger instead.

She smiled in relief.


	11. Unease

Chapter 10 – Unease

“Miss Maxie.” A deep, booming voice came out of an imposing man, almost seven feet tall, with rich mahogany skin. He wore all black, his big body covered in a long tunic with matching loose pants.

“Hey Tiny.” Max jumped up to give him a hug. 

Then she turned toward Alec. “Put the gun away. We are not shooting anyone today.”

When Alec put the safety back on, he was surprised when Tiny took him into a massive hug. “You’re small but strong. Boss will like you.”

Max grinned and waved a hand at Alec. “Oh, everyone likes him. He’s too pretty for his own good.”

* * * *

Tiny led them across the street, to a forgettable grey building, and through a side door that blended into the walls. Alec wasn’t even sure he’d seen a doorknob. He’d have walked right by.

It was dark inside, with techno-pop music piping through the speakers. The hallway seemed to go on forever. When they finally reached the end, Alec was surprised to find himself with a face full of crystal beads hanging from the doorway.

He pushed the beaded curtain out of the way, muttering about the decor.

A few more cautious steps, and he saw the bar stools, the tiny round tables, a massive stage—and something else too.

Under the bright lights centered over the stage—there were three gleaming, sparkling stripper poles.

Alec turned to look at an expectant Max. She’d been quiet, watching him take in his surroundings.

Then he smiled so bright, it was enough to light up the whole room.

“You’re wrong Max. I like your idea just fine.” 

* * * *

Natalya watched Tiny and his two visitors. When he’d been sent across the street to fetch them, she’d been filing her nails, bored witless. Business was slow and wouldn’t pick up for a few more hours.

The interior was always dim (on purpose), but the way one of his visitors moved—that seemed familiar. She narrowed her pale blue eyes, studying the woman sandwiched between the two men. All she could make out so far were some lopsided ponytails, some torn jeans, and some worn out combat boots.

This woman clearly did not care about her looks. Natalya snorted in derision.

Now, the man, on the other hand, he was quite spectacular to look at. At least six feet, with a lean build and wide shoulders—short messy hair—and when she met his gaze—a pair of mesmerizing eyes, staring unblinking at her.

But it was something more. This man was dangerous. She could feel it in her bones. It made her smile.

Ilya was going to like this one.

* * * *

It was always a weird buzzing sound, something only he heard—and it made his spine tingle—something his body did to focus his awareness.

Someone was watching them. 

Keeping his arm around Max, he made sure her face was turned away. He leaned in, and pushing one of her crooked ponytails out of the way, he kissed her temple. When he did, he saw the woman leaning against the bar, watching them with too much interest.

She was tall, nearly six feet with her expensive high heels. Her dark brown hair was twisted into a perfect knot, at the base of her neck. Ice blue eyes met his stare without fear. Her full mouth, her high cheekbones, her flawless complexion—she was the typical Russian beauty queen. Except he was sure she’d have no problem killing him in a heartbeat.

Because that’s what he felt. Recognition—two killers acknowledging each other.

* * * *

Natalya was so busy studying the man, she forgot about the girl. But when she heard that obnoxious laugh, she gasped and clapped her hands in delight.

“Kotik! You are back!”

As one, all three bodies slowly turned to face her. Tiny stepped back into the shadows, acknowledging Natalya with a slight nod. Max smiled without hesitation, even when her mystery man stepped in front of her to block her path.

* * * *

“You’re in my way Alec.” Max tried to push him to one side. The problem was, when Alec didn’t want to move, he just didn’t. Because she didn’t want to make a scene, she decided to ask nicely.

“Move it.” Max blinked big brown eyes at Alec, waiting patiently. “Please.”

Still, Alec didn’t budge, his gaze stuck on the Russian bombshell.

When he appeared to have gone deaf, Max gave up on nice. She might have snapped, except she noticed that he was staring at Natalya.

“She is gorgeous, I know. But pretend you love me ok?” Max bit out, maybe sounding petulant, but she wasn’t about to admit that. 

“I love you.” He captured her mouth in a swift kiss. “But that woman is a killer.”

Max grabbed his hand before he could turn away from her. She pulled him close, linking their fingers together—and very quietly, so only he could hear, she whispered, “So are we.”

* * * *

“Kotik, you are beautiful as always.” Natalya studied Max with a critical eye. “But this—“ She flicked a ponytail. “This I will never understand. This American culture is so—casual. Is that the right word?”

Max shrugged, clearly unconcerned about her lack in fashion. “It works for me.”

Natalya remained silent, taking in what Max wasn’t saying. She’d yet to introduce her companion. Because she wasn’t particularly patient, she decided to find out herself.

“You’re here for business then?”

Even as she spoke, she started circling Alec deliberately. It was a slow circle, and she looked him up and down, whistling in appreciation. 

“Ilya will love this present you bring him.” Natalya looked at Max slyly. “Maybe you don’t pay the price then?”

* * * *

What price? Alec narrowed his eyes to mere slits. This was not good. Maybe Max was right after all. Not such a good idea to be hanging out with Russian assassins. He was pretty sure he’d read her dossier somewhere, but he didn’t want to waste energy trying to recall every detail.

He was ready to leave.

* * * *

Max had stepped back until she was the one leaning against the bar. She watched Natalya circling Alec like the vulture she was. When she heard her so flippantly assess Alec, she didn’t bother to react, not yet.

“Oh no, Natalya. Alec is mine.” Max inspected her fingernails carefully. They were cut short and devoid of any nail polish. Maybe they had been bitten to the quick a few times. So it was a good thing her rapid healing skills covered up the abuse.

But Natalya was captivated by Alec, by the fact that he seemed so calm. He hadn’t moved one muscle. He’d remained quiet during the whole exchange, never once breaking his gaze, those eyes still unflinchingly steady throughout. Without thinking, she reached out to touch his face—

And found her hand caught on one of Max’s ponytails instead. Icy blue eyes clashed with bored brown eyes.

“Alec. Is. Mine.” With each word, Max took a step forward, forcing Natalya back.

* * * *

Alec was surprised. No one was yelling. No one was fighting. At the very least, Max should have thrown a barstool.

What was more surprising though, was hearing Max claim him in public. 

It turned him on—it really did—but maybe now was not the time? 

So instead he leaned into Max’s space and whispered, “Did you just block her with your hair?”

* * * *

Max ignored Alec, who still managed to find new ways to irritate her. Of course she stopped Natalya from touching him. So what if it was her hair? At least her ponytails came in handy, right?

She waited for Natalya to acknowledge her. Natalya had overstepped, and she knew it. Either she would back down, or Max would destroy this entire club and take what was owed the hard way.

It might be more fun to do it the hard way. She hadn’t burned anything down in months. With that thought, Max let a little smile slip.

* * * *

Carefully, Natalya untangled herself from Max’s unsightly hair. She managed to keep her gaze steady with Max—but that tiny smile, so sweet and unassuming—that was just disarming. Max had never looked at her—at anyone for that matter—like that.

So she backed down. She nodded and stepped back.

“You pay now? Or later maybe?”

She watched Max tilt her head, her eyes taking in Natalya from head to toe, the perusal slow and somehow threatening.

“Now works.” Max blinked slowly. “No one touches Alec. You understand?”

Natalya nodded and leaned back against the bar. She’d lost track of how many times she and Max had switched positions. Either way, she knew when to retreat.

“It’s good to have you back, kotik.”

* * * *

“Max, did you know, she keeps calling you pussycat?” Alec dragged her away from the bar.

“Probably.” Max only shrugged, already dismissing Natalya.

“But why?” Still Alec pressed on. “Does she know about our feline DNA?”

“No.” He heard her sigh. “She’s just like Cindy. Except I don’t trust her.”

Alec blinked in surprise. A lesbian assassin? That was kind of hot. Except Max would kill him just for thinking it.

“Can we go? Whatever this price—I already know it’ll piss me off.” Alec pulled her close, ignoring everyone in the club. 

“How about a kiss for good luck? It’ll be over in about four minutes anyway.” Was she really ignoring him?

He felt it—the beginning of doubt, of unease creeping in.

Max never asked for good luck. Why now?

* * * *

Natalya watched Alec gather Max into his arms. She was only vaguely curious that Max was back in town. She was more interested in the fact that Max was not alone.

This man of hers, he held himself with confidence, unafraid—but still dangerous. He had not backed down when she’d approached him. He’d waited, measuring her worth, dismissing her beauty, not impressed at all. 

She studied him, focused on his face, wondering why he seemed familiar. She knew that she’d never come across him before. If they’d met, she knew with certainty—

That one of them would be dead.

* * * *

Alec took a deep breath, ready to argue some more. But he felt Max pull him close, both hands on his face, her fingers laced behind his crown, her thumbs gently skimming his cheekbones. He loved when she touched his face like that. When she looked so deeply at him—in him.

It stopped his soul from spinning out of control.

As she pressed her body against his, he circled his arms around her and inhaled her scent, his hands resting on her waist. It was slow and sweet, the way her mouth moved over his, the way she so clearly claimed him in front of everyone in the club.

He never noticed that his arms were suddenly cold.

Or that Max was now stepping away from him, waving her old combat boots at him. She dropped them on the nearest table and pointed.

“Watch my boots Alec.”

What? Why was she leaving without her shoes?

The feeling of unease only grew stronger.


	12. Undone

Chapter 11 – Undone

He heard Natalya come up behind him, but he didn’t bother to acknowledge her. He was still annoyed that Max had left him with boots and no explanation.

“She looks good in your shirt, yes?” Natalya nodded to Max, who was slowly moving away from them.

Alec blinked in surprise, staring at his bare arms, wondering how Max had managed to take off shirt and kiss him senseless at the same time. He’d felt her hands running over him—but he’d thought nothing of it. Was he so distracted that he didn’t even notice Max undressing him?

When he finally turned to look at Natalya, she was still watching Max. He realized that Natalya was staring at Max with what looked suspiciously like desire.

“What color are my eyes?” Alec raised an eyebrow and waited for her response.

“Blue?” Natalya shrugged out a guess, her eyes still trained on Max. “Purple? Does it matter?”

“You weren’t checking me out at all.” Alec snorted in disbelief. “You just wanted to get a rise out of her.” 

When Natalya finally turned to him, she released a full wattage smile. “Of course. Years I’ve been trying to get at her.”

“But why?” Alec persisted, taking in her relaxed stance against the bar. “Why would you want her mad at you?”

“Because I want her weakness.” Natalya’s eyes glinted with a hint of darkness. “You are it.”

* * * *

Before Alec could reply, the room went pitch black. He heard familiar chords from a synthesizer—that sounded like an old rock band—Duran Duran?

“Is that—“ Alec paused, uncertain.

“Come Undone.” Natalya let out long sigh. “Do you know it?”

Alec smiled. “Is that the mermaid video?”

“Yes, there is some female in the water.” Natalya closed her eyes, swaying to the music. “This song—it has a slow enough beat that she can move to it.” 

Natalya leaned close to Alec and whispered, “Has she danced for you?”

Alec leaned away. “A lap dance once—“

“Lucky you. Must have been magnificent, yes?” Natalya murmured.

Alec snorted, remembering how—even though she sat on his lap—she mostly pulled at his hair, randomly twirling clumps—and just annoying him in general. “It really wasn’t.” 

“You are in for a treat then. An excruciating four minutes.” Natalya’s smile was not kind at all. “Those minutes will either crawl by or go too fast.”

The spotlights on stage slowly came on.

Max was leaning against a pole.

* * * *

Alec froze. What was she doing up there? As far as he knew, Max had no rhythm whatsoever.

Beyond that, he knew for damn sure she’d better keep her clothes on.

* * * *

Max could not see past the edge of the stage. Even with her enhanced vision, she was blinded by the combination of bright lights and darkness.

Which was fine. That was exactly the way she liked it. She did not want to think of anyone watching her.

It was just a job. But this time, maybe it wouldn’t be so painful. She wouldn’t have to think of the unending loneliness. She could think of Alec.

So she closed her eyes, and thought of their first time together. 

Her back was still against the pole. She found the slow beat of the music, and running one hand up the pole, she pushed against it—but gently.

She let the music claim her. She started to move.

* * * *

Alec wasn’t sure he was going to last four minutes. He’d started counting as soon as the spotlights came on.

He was only 26 seconds in, and he was breathing hard.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He watched as her hand very carefully caressed the pole in front of her—her palm upturned, her fingers trailing up the pole—then just as slowly, her hand turned over, making the journey back down. 

Her other hand was moving too, toward his favorite flannel shirt—stopping on the first button, and slowly making its way down, down, and down. 

He watched his shirt flutter helplessly to the floor.

His pants were tight. Only 196 seconds to go.

* * * *

Max looked at her hands, wondering where Alec would go next.

She raised up her right hand, inspecting first the front of it, then the back. Carefully, she lowered her hand, her fingers splayed on her face, her mouth parted just enough.

Alec liked to touch her face, liked to trail his hands down her body. She shivered. She closed her eyes, her fingers still moving over her face, her pinky caught in her mouth. She paused, her other hand still resting on the pole, gently moving up and down. With a low moan, she let her head fall back, exposing her neck, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, all evidence of ponytails gone. 

Her hand continued its lazy journey downward, skimming her neck, moving slowly down her chest, until she rested at the opening of her jeans.

* * * *

Alec’s mind was at war. _Keep the pants on! Take them off!_

He couldn’t decide. He wanted to yank Max off the stage and find a quiet corner. Or maybe just have her against the bar.

He watched Max stop at her jeans. 

His mind was chanting—

_Please, please, please, please, please—_

He just wasn’t sure what he was pleading for.

* * * *

Max let her head fall forward, her hair brushing against her neck. Now what? Would he rip them off—or tease her for a little bit?

She lingered at the top of her jeans, fingering the button, undecided. After a moment, she smiled and let her fingers continue its languid pace south.

She bit her lip as she realized just how ready she was for Alec.

* * * *

Alec groaned. Did her hand just disappear down her pants?

How was he supposed to last another—what was it now?

118 seconds? Goddammit.

* * * *

Max slowly pulled her hand up and out of her jeans. Carefully, she moved her hand up her belly, up her chest, her fingers spread wide, up and up, until she reached her neck. Her hand crept up her face, and parting her mouth, she delicately licked her first two fingers.

And while her one hand was moving north, the other hand was moving south, her thumb skimming the side of her chest and her other fingers just floating over her breast, barely touching. Slowly, her hand rotated until her thumb was facing downward, and her other fingers caressed her back, inching toward her waist.

She felt her hips sway ever so slightly. Alec surely would have taken off her pants by now. With that thought, she flicked open the top button and found the zipper.

Oh definitely, the pants would be gone by now. Max smiled dreamily.

* * * *

Alec had to fight every urge to rush the stage. Her jeans had slithered off like they were nothing. He always had to fight and pull those suckers off—they were so tight. He struggled to breathe. 

Max with no pants, all long legs and—what was left?

Her tank top—the bra—the panties—

_Who do you need? Who do you love? When you come undone? ___

____

____

Goddammit. When was this miserable song over?

Hissing impatience, Alec forced himself to focus. Just 62 seconds left.

* * * *

Slowly, Max walked around the pole, one finger lingering on the smooth metal, absently tracing up and down. Her other hand rested on her stomach, a smooth expanse of skin peeking through.

She dropped her head, let go of the pole, her other hand coming to rest on her hip, fingering the edge of her tank top. She frowned slightly. Alec would have taken this off already.

And there it was, on the floor.

Better. Max closed her eyes and smiled.

* * * *

Max had only two bits of black lace left—her bra and her panties.

Alec didn’t think he was going to make it.

He needed Max now.

For the first time ever, Alec lost count. 

* * * *

Max looked at the floor, counting the scattered clothing. Everything was accounted for. Just one more piece left.

Max stood still—and, like a graceful ballerina, she rotated her entire body, until only her back was visible to the audience. One arm reached up and unhooked the bra, her shoulders leaning forward, and her other arm almost accidentally caught the bra.

In a languid movement, the bra strap slipped off the shoulder, one hand sliding through. The bra, now hanging from her other arm slowly slid down, down, and down.

Until that too, finally floated to the floor.

* * * *

Alec smelled Natalya’s arousal. Surprised, he stared at her, her heavy eyes riveted on Max, waiting for the grand finale.

There it was. Max had finally turned around.

He gritted his teeth. The bra was gone.

He watched mesmerized as her hands moved up from her belly button, cupping her breasts, swaying to the end of the song. Her hands let go, moved up her face, her hair falling forward.

When she finally opened her eyes, she met his gaze in the dark. Her brown eyes were heavy with passion—and she was looking at him.

Then it hit him. She’d been thinking of him this whole time.

* * * *

By the time Alec blurred to the stage, Max was gone. In fact, all of her clothes were gone. It was like it never happened.

In a haze of desire and fury, Alec blurred to the back rooms hunting for Max.

He was about ready to kill anyone dumb enough to get in his way.

* * * *

Max was already dressed. She’d been dressed since leaving the stage. She hated being cold, and it never made any sense to walk around in a robe with all the AC blasting.

The door burst open. She didn’t get a chance to introduce Alec. She only knew that his mouth was on hers, his arms were around her—and her world was right once again.

Until she heard him speak.

“Don’t ever do that again.”


	13. Price

Chapter 12 – Price

Alec felt the surprise running through her body. He tightened his embrace when she tried to push against him. When she finally stopped struggling, he felt her head drop on his shoulder.

“Was it that bad?” Her voice was muffled, but he heard the hurt. She didn’t understand. She thought he was criticizing her.

Before he could answer, he felt a shift in the air. His instincts had him reaching for his gun, his aim already precise.

* * * *

Ilya had been leaning against the far wall when the door burst open. He’d kept still because he knew what fury looked like.

Plus, this man was simply impressive to look at. Tall, broad shoulders, lean hips—and definitely angry. It was a sexy combination.

It looked like poor Max needed some help. So he stepped forward—and found himself staring straight into a gun barrel.

* * * *

Keeping his hold on Max, Alec slowly turned his head, annoyed that they had an audience. When he recognized the man, his entire body went into high alert.

What was Max doing consorting with the head of a Russian mob?

* * * *

“You were magnificent rybka.” Ilya raised his hands in mock surrender, moving forward, intent on lightening the mood.

He smiled widely. “Even I got a hard on.”

He watched cold green eyes narrow in distaste. The gun shifted aim from his heart—to his forehead.

And that click? It was the gun safety.

He should have been afraid. Instead, he was excited. He was aroused. He was staring into a predator’s eyes—and all he could think was—

_What is your price?_

* * * *

Alec was still reeling from Max’s performance on stage.

He was feeling raw from spending days making love to Max—and he wasn’t in the mood to hear how someone else was turned on.

It was like he wasn’t allowed to enjoy any intimacy with Max. Did he have to share her with everyone?

He really wanted to shoot someone. 

This Russian guy would look good with a bullet in his head.

* * * *

Max stomped on Alec’s foot. Now she was angry. He didn’t get to kiss her and make fun of her.

She heard him grunt, but he didn’t move.

* * * *

“Ilya Ivanovich Ivanov.” Alec let go of Max, and in just two long strides, he had the gun pressed into Ilya’s head. “Tell me why you should be alive right now?”

“Because I am Max’s friend?” Ilya remained still, knowing that even a little twitch would mean a bullet to the brain.

Alec leaned in close, his lips by Ilya’s ear. “What kind of friend makes her pay that price on stage?”

“We agreed on this price, years ago—when Max needs a favor.” Slowly, he nodded toward a glaring Max. “You ask, confirm with her.”

Neither seemed to realize that they were no longer speaking English.

* * * *

Max blinked when she heard the rapid fire Russian between them.

It was bad enough they were ignoring her. Now she had no clue what they were saying. How irritating. It was too much.

“Would you two stop flirting!” Max yelled before throwing the nearest thing at them. Sadly, it was just a satin pillow. She blinked in disappointment. 

Wasn’t there a vase somewhere? 

* * * *

Alec caught the pillow before it smacked Ilya in the face. Carefully, he dropped the pillow, waiting for Max’s next outburst.

“Rybka has a temper.” Ilya nodded in her general direction. “Watch out for the vase.”

They both ducked in time.

The vase shattered against the wall.

“How do you call her little fish—and she has not killed you yet?” Alec was curious.

“She might not know its meaning.” Ilya smiled. “Before, it was myshka.”

“Little mouse?” Alec raised an eyebrow.

“She did not like the sound of that. We went through some words before she agreed on rybka.” Ilya shrugged.

“I’m surprised she agreed to anything.” Alec muttered.

“Indeed.” Ilya pointed to the gun still aimed at him. “You will not kill me?”

“Not today.” Alec put the safety and slid the gun in the back of his waistband. “You ready to deal with Max?”

“Oh, I am never ready.” Ilya laughed in surprise. “But you are here to help me.”

* * * *

Max was annoyed. She was running out of objects to throw. She could toss the chair next, but then—where would she sit?

How were both men just standing there, unharmed? 

First, she couldn’t dance. Now she couldn’t aim? 

She narrowed her eyes, calculating her next move, watching the amusement they both tried so hard to hide. Maybe she should—

She smiled slowly. Yes, she should.

* * * *

Alec froze when Max stopped throwing things at them. She had that look about her—when she was planning something that was about to piss him off.

When she smiled like that, ever so slowly—he knew he would hate whatever came next.

Still he wasn’t prepared. 

* * * *

Ilya also froze. He’d never known Max to slow down a temper tantrum. She was quick to throw things and break things in general. She never thought about the consequences.

So why stop?

And what was that odd little smile? 

* * * *

Alec watched in horror when Max started swaying to some imaginary music, her fingers already unbuttoning her shirt—his shirt!

Her eyes were closed, already shutting them out, her voice so low, that he almost missed it. 

“I should practice then, until I get better, right?“

* * * *

It happened fast. One second Alec was in front of him. The next, he was on top of Max, a tangle of limbs on the floor.

He’d never seen anyone tackle Max. Ilya smiled in anticipation.

This was going to be good.

* * * *

Max was reliving her time on the stage. Until she was flattened on the ground, all of Alec’s weight crushing her.

She opened her eyes, keeping her entire body still. “More feedback already?” She searched his eyes, reading worry—and panic?

When he said nothing, she lost patience. “Get off Alec. I’m not in the mood.”

But Alec only buried his face in her neck, one arm cradling her head. She felt his breath come in hard and fast. She felt his body shift, his hand reaching for hers, linking their fingers.

“No more. Please.” He raised his head, his green eyes exhausted. “The way you move. That is for me. No one else.”

Still she said nothing, her face turned away from him. She felt his mouth move against her neck, his voice low and hoarse.

“I can’t share you like that. I just can’t.”

* * * *

Ilya knew it was going to escalate—but instead of the expected fighting and yelling—

It was escalating a different way. 

He wanted to stay. He was very interested in seeing Max’s mystery man lose control.

But he felt her eyes on him. Even though she was pinned and couldn’t move a muscle, he could read the warning in her eyes. She wanted him to leave. Immediately.

With a quick nod, he walked to the door.

* * * *

“Is it Tuesday Max? Just say yes.”

Alec didn’t know what else to do. Maybe she could remember that she loved him? That she could sometimes do things just because he asked?

He breathed in her scent, feeling her anger, waiting for her to respond.

Max said nothing. She wasn’t even looking at him.


	14. Lesson

Chapter 13 – Lesson

Max had never questioned paying the price—mostly because she didn’t care. Ilya claimed that he made more money when she danced for him. She doubted that was true. But he always stopped by her dressing room, right after a show, an envelope in hand, with enough cash to last a few months.

She suspected that was his way of taking care of her. She had performed on stage, and he’d paid her for it. For him, it was a business transaction. He would always leave the envelope on the dresser, for her to accept or not.

Still, she didn’t like Alec (or anyone really) judging her for a decision she’d made years ago. That was bad enough. Then she’d caught them making fun of her (in their stupid Russian conversation). The fact that she didn’t understand a word made no difference. 

When Max heard the door click, she looked at Alec, still buried in her shoulder.

She shoved him off. 

She wasn’t in the mood to baby him. She was about to teach him a lesson.

* * * *

Alec rolled off without protest. So she was still mad. He should probably apologize, except he wasn’t clear about why. He started to think it through, going over his actions, when suddenly—he was just tired. 

He did not want her dancing in front of other people. It was pretty simple.

He figured she’d start throwing things soon—except, he heard music instead. It was that blasted song, the one that sent him over the edge. Even though she loved it, he couldn’t stop the words from escaping his mouth.

“I hate this song. I really do.”

* * * *

Max ignored him. The slow rhythm of the ballad was already affecting her.

She caught movement from the corner of her eye. Slowly she turned, swaying her hips provocatively. Alec had managed to sit up, his knees drawn up, green eyes narrowed in disbelief. When his mouth opened to voice his disapproval, Max undid the last button on the shirt and let it fall off her shoulders.

His mouth snapped shut. Max only smiled. She took a few steps toward him, her hand extended, like she was about to help him up.

He was unsure, waiting a beat, before he placed his hand in hers—and very carefully, she pulled him up. When she felt he was stable, she let go—and slowly, she walked around him, her fingers trailing the same path, over his chest, brushing his arm, caressing his back, lingering on his other arm—until she was exactly where she started.

* * * *

Alec did not know what to do. So he stood still, just waiting, trying his best not to react.

He’d let her pull him up—mostly because he didn’t know what else to do. Even if she’d knocked him flat on his ass, at least he would know for sure that she was mad—and plotting to cause him some pain.

But now, Max was walking circles around him—and losing her clothes, again.

Alec closed his eyes.

Not just mad—she was planning to torture him then.

* * * *

She could feel the tension running through his body. She liked him like this—when he was on the verge of snapping—when he couldn’t decide whether to kill her or kiss her. She thought maybe she was a little sick, or dysfunctional at least—but whatever.

She licked her lips deliberately, and leaning in close, her hair brushing his face, she blew into his ear. She caught a small tremor, even though he tried to hide it.

She inhaled deeply, enjoying his scent, enjoying his discomfort. She touched his face, her nails gently raking against his cheek. She met his uncertain gaze, and finally she spoke.

“Just for you then?”

* * * *

What? Did she just offer to dance for him?

Because his brain stopped functioning awhile back—probably when she lost his shirt a second time—he did the only thing he could.

He nodded.

* * * *

But Max wasn’t even looking at him. She was staring at her hands, just like she did on stage, first the front, then the back—as if she wasn’t sure what to do. Then one hand reached out to his chest—and starting from his collarbone, fingers lightly touching, her palm facing down, she trailed a path over his chest, over his abdomen, and going even lower, where she paused at his jeans—

Carefully, she ventured just a little bit lower, and she heard him suck in his breath. Almost absently, she flicked open the top button of his jeans—and retreated.

“I was up there thinking, where would Alec go next?”

Max stepped back, taking her hand away from him, she let her hands trace the same path down her body, also flicking open her jeans—except she kept going.

* * * *

Alec couldn’t breathe. He was sure that Max was going to make him embarrass himself in his pants—then walk out like nothing happened. That was exactly the kind of mean streak she had.

Because he was up close and personal, Alec could smell her. He knew how ready she was for him.

He was ready for her too. Like an hour ago, he was ready.

Still, he remained frozen—unwilling to interrupt Max’s show.

* * * *

“I thought, the jeans would be off by now.” Max slithered out of the jeans, gently toeing them away from her. “And this?” She pointed to her tank top. “Gone for sure.” She had the tank up and over her head in no time at all.

She glanced at Alec—his green eyes, usually so alert—looked a bit glazed. So, it was working then? He was paying attention, finally?

While her hands had been stroking his shoulders and moving down his arms, she’d been calculating the distance to the chair. With just enough force, she pushed him away and smiled.

* * * *

Alec was startled out of his trance when Max pushed him. He staggered a few steps back, expecting to land on the floor.

He was surprised when the back of his knees hit the chair, forcing him to sit abruptly.

* * * *

Max stood a few feet in front of him, humming to the song, turning leisurely, until her back was to him. She looked over her shoulder, her brown eyes unreadable, dark hair cascading down her back. She unhooked the bra and let it fall to the floor. With her arms crossed over her breasts, she took those few steps to close the gap between them. Because he was sitting, she was able to lean over him, her hair falling forward, brushing his face.

“How about a private lap dance?”

She uncrossed her arms, her breasts so very close to his face. She leaned in just a little bit more, her chest practically about to suffocate him.

He wanted to reach out and touch her. She could tell.

Still he did not move.

* * * *

Alec knew he wasn’t going to survive this.

First, he’d totally forgot to keep track of the song. He hadn’t even remembered to start the count. He wasn’t sure how much time was left.

Second, she remembered when he’d made fun of her lap dance!

She was going to punish him for sure.

* * * *

“I didn’t try very hard at the Blowfish, did I?” Max leaned away and slowly straightened. Almost absently, she gathered her hair with both hands, twirling strands up and over her head, like she had finally decided on a hairstyle. Her elbows extended at angles, framing her face, one hand holding up the hair, the other hand rubbing behind her neck thoughtfully.

Max closed her eyes, swaying to the end of the song, turned just enough so that Alec could see her profile, the curve of her breast, the flatness of her stomach, the way the panties clung to her—

Her eyes flew open. 

* * * *

Alec was so hard, he didn’t even realize that Max stopped dancing. 

He was just hoping that the damn song would end. Then Max could gloat and, and—what was wrong with him?

He opened his eyes, finally remembering that he could punish her too.

* * * *

But Max was already one step ahead of him. Alec nearly fell off the chair when she pulled off his jeans.

When she stepped away, she fingered the waistband of her panties. “This usually stays on.” She bit her lip and looked at him, desire clear in the brown depths. “But for you—and only you—I will take them off.”

So she did. With hungry eyes, she walked over to him, her eyes raking the entire length of his body—and pausing where he throbbed the most.

* * * *

Alec took in the glory of a clothes-free Max. He never got tired of looking at her.

Then he couldn’t remember why they were fighting. He couldn’t remember who was punishing whom.

He just knew that Max was with him, dancing just for him, smiling that secret smile of hers. Life was good. So he relaxed his entire body, let go of the uncertainty, and decided, dammit, his woman sure knew how to move.

* * * *

She stood to one side of him, watching his entire body release the tension and just sink into the chair. When she reached out to cup his face, she expected him to sit still, like the perfect soldier he was. Instead, he leaned into her touch, his cheek resting in the palm of her hand, and she heard his quiet sigh.

Then she felt some deep emotion swelling inside her heart—it was something more than love. She closed her eyes and embraced the overwhelming deepness of it.

Alec trusted her.

She bowed her head and let the beauty of the moment flow through her. What lesson what she trying to teach him anyway? That he shouldn’t protect her? That he shouldn’t want her just for him? 

No one had ever wanted her this completely.

She was all backwards. She should be rewarding him instead.

* * * *

He loved when she touched his face—when she touched him anywhere. It meant he wasn’t so alone anymore. If anything, she made him feel alive.

He opened his eyes, watching her slowly swing her knee over his hip, carefully straddling him but not quite touching. The hand cupping his cheek had moved behind his head, gently stroking his neck. He felt her other hand trail down his shoulder, down his arm—until it rested lightly on his hand.

Intertwining their fingers, he watched her take his hand and place it over her heart. He held his breath. Was he allowed to touch her now?

Whatever. He wasn’t going to blow it by moving too soon.

But then, she was the one guiding his hand down her body, every smooth curve—until she stopped at her hip. He felt her lean toward him, he felt her forehead rest against his—so he opened his eyes and met her gaze, stunned to realize that she wasn’t gloating at all.

He only saw was how deeply she loved him—and maybe a hint of impatience?

Her next words made him tremble in anticipation.

“Stop being so polite. Touch me.”

* * * *

When Alec finally claimed her mouth, she couldn’t stop the moan from escaping. She loved this, the way his mouth moved over hers, nipping and sucking—and just making her forget everything. She opened her eyes, surprised to find that he was watching her.

She broke the kiss and bit her lip. Then she smiled slowly, her hands resting on his shoulders, balancing the entire weight of her body on her knees—and she quit hovering just above his lap. She sank onto him, taking him completely, watching his eyes change from green to gold. She threw her head back, leaning away from him, moving to a slow rhythm, her hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging in.

* * * *

Alec lost himself to the feel of Max surrounding him, loving him completely, easily obliterating rational thought. Vaguely, he heard the song in the background. Surely the four minutes were over?

_Who do you need? Who do you love? When you come undone?_

Well, he was about to come undone real soon. Only Max seemed to know how to break him apart just to put him back together. It was an intense and exhausting thing—and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

He felt Max move one hand up his neck and frame his cheek. He opened his eyes and watched her lean forward, watched her open her eyes slowly—and look straight into his soul.

“It’s always Tuesday Alec.”


	15. Battle

Chapter 14 – Battle

“I love this song Max.” Alec nuzzled her neck, closing his eyes in contentment.

“It’s on repeat.” She kissed his nose. “It’s the only one I can dance to. I can’t seem to find rhythm with any other song.”

“Thank goodness for that.” He winced when she smacked him upside the head. “I just mean, if you lost all your clothes to every song on the radio—I just don’t think my heart could take it.”

She snorted. “You do not have a heart condition.”

“You have given me a perpetual heart condition.” Alec rubbed his chest dramatically.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Does that mean you love me with all your heart—or that I give you heart attacks?”

“Both.” And Alec grabbed her hands before she could beat him senseless. Carefully, he transferred both of her hands to one hand. With his other hand, he pulled her close, even as she started squirming and making threats. So he kissed her slowly and deeply—because he knew, and she did too—that Max had no defenses against that. She stopped fighting and melted into him.

* * * *

Natalya strode quickly down the hall, annoyed that Ilya had sent her down to Max’s dressing room. Couldn’t he call her? Or send someone else?

She knocked on the door, impatiently tapping her foot. When 10 seconds went by without acknowledgement, Natalya gave up being nice. She banged on the door, intent on kicking it down, just because she felt like breaking something. 

She heard something crash against the wall. Was Max throwing one of her famous tantrums again?

* * * *

Max found herself against the wall, her legs wrapped tightly against Alec’s hips. She heard something fall to the floor. It might have been the painting of the Golden Gate Bridge. 

Good. It was ugly anyway.

She thought the banging noise was Alec trying to break the wall with her body. But the rhythm didn’t match. So she released her grip on Alec’s shoulders and focused on the sound. Was it the door?

* * * *

“As much as I want to kill another room—“ Alec kissed her deeply. “Someone won’t go away.” He nodded to the door. “Go put something on—“ Reluctantly, he untangled her legs from his body. He waited until she opened her eyes, frowning at him. 

He watched her blink uncertainly, looking first at him, then the door. It wasn’t often that Max was unaware of her surroundings. But Alec knew it was because she was always a bit—hazy—after being with him. He grinned, proud that he could make Max lose some of her composure. Yeah, he still had it.

When she finally turned away, he could not resist. He smacked her ass. “And keep your clothes on!”

* * * *

So it was the door? Max blinked, wondering why it mattered. She just wanted Alec, and now he was turning away from her. She looked at the floor, kicking her clothes out of the way. She didn’t want to get dressed.

But she didn’t want Alec to answer the door naked. She wasn’t ready to share him with anyone, not like that anyway. Impatiently, she pushed the chair out of the way, searching for his clothes. There, she spotted a pile of blue behind the table. She reached toward it, her hand already balling up his jeans.

* * * *

Alec couldn’t find his shirt—or his jeans for that matter. He rubbed his neck. Well, he wasn’t going to answer the door without a stitch of clothing.

“Hey Max—“ Before he could finish his sentence, he had a face full of his jeans. Max’s aim had sure improved after they’d—he smirked to himself.

He slid into his jeans with ease and pulled the door open.

* * * *

Natalya froze, unprepared for the sight of Alec leaning against the doorjamb. He looked like he went through a battle, and just barely came out alive. She didn’t know where to focus. He had red marks on his neck, on his bare chest—he had scratches on his shoulders, his arms—and were those bruises too? 

Her eyes traveled south, noting the defined abdomen, the jeans carelessly zipped up, the top button forgotten. Slowly, her gaze traveled upward—and she sucked in her breath.

If his body seemed like it might have been defeated, his eyes told a different story. Oh, he very much enjoyed the battle.

She watched him blink a lazy smile at her, patiently waiting for her to snap out of it—like he knew he had this effect on women.

“You still trying to get a rise out of Max?”

* * * *

Max had managed to slip on her silk robe. She wasn’t in the mood to feel rough denim against her skin. She’d much rather feel Alec against her skin.

She glanced at the open door. Alec was holding the door open—but his entire body blocked entry. She blinked as she studied his back. It was full of scratches, welts, bruises—and hickeys too? Had she done that?

* * * *

“Aleksei! You look thoroughly ravaged. How wonderful.” Natalya leaned in, sniffing delicately. “I’m jealous.”

She watched Alec laugh and shake his head.

“Max did this to you?” Natalya hoped he’d say one of the other girls found him instead.

“Only Max does this to me.” He nodded. “I’m lucky to be alive.” He paused. “But if I didn’t survive, what a way to go.”

* * * *

Max sighed when she heard the Russian flowing between them so easily. So either Ilya or Natalya was at the door. But the way Alec was standing, she knew it had to be Natalya.

Though, if Alec were smart, he would know that Natalya was the bigger threat. She had fast reflexes. She could take down a larger man with her bare hands.

* * * *

“I would invite you in—“ Alec nodded to Max behind him. “But I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself.”

Natalya peered over Alec’s shoulder, taking in a sultry Max leaning against the window, quietly observing the both of them. The short kimono robe barely covered her, forming a deep V, gaping down the front, exposing her collarbone, the valley between her breasts, her belly button—and the sash wasn’t really tied, was it?

Natalya sucked in her breath, knowing that Max wasn’t quite finished with Alec. She was reading impatience in those brown eyes of hers. In fact, if she stayed long enough, she was sure that Max would drop the robe and—

She felt Alec’s hand against her throat, his thumb almost caressing her. Except she knew it was a warning. He could squeeze without much effort, and she’d be done.

“Eyes on me soldier.” Alec waited until she met his gaze. “Tell Ilya we’ll get there when we get there.”

* * * *

Alec stilled when he felt Max come up behind him. He hadn’t even heard her move. He inhaled deeply when he felt her bare chest against his back. When he understood what that meant, his brain sputtered to a halt.

He forgot he was holding anyone by the throat.

All he could think was—did Max lose her clothes—again?

* * * *

Before Natalya could acknowledge Alec, she saw a blur of movement behind him—and a flutter of white silk on the floor. Then she saw Max’s arms wrap around his torso. She watched in fascination, the way her hands slowly moved up his chest—and just as slowly, skim downward, over the sculpted muscles, then dipping lower into his jeans—

She heard Alec’s intake of breath—and she felt the pressure on her throat increase. She didn’t think she could speak to save her life. Already she was feeling dizzy.

But she heard Max’s voice—impatient and husky.

“Let her go Alec. I’m not done with you.”

* * * *

Max smiled when Alec shoved Natalya away from him. She watched him slam the door and lean his head against it. She almost laughed when she heard him speak.

“Max. It’s very hard for me to threaten a dangerous assassin when you come up behind me—without your clothes!” She watched him slowly turn around in her arms, his eyes closed—unwilling to see any inch of exposed skin. “Please, please tell me—are you at least wearing that white kimono thing?”

She bit her lip. He sounded so earnest. Carefully, she kicked the silk robe away from him, before he could notice it—or try to strangle her with it. Sadly, it didn’t weigh much and merely got tangled up in her foot. She stared daggers at it. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her foot?

She felt his eyes on her. She met his stormy gaze and tried to blink away the guilt, but he’d caught her.

So what. She pulled him in and claimed that mouth—warm and full and entirely too chatty. It was the only way to shut him up.

* * * *

Max was on the floor, resting on the pillow she’d thrown earlier. Alec was snoring on her shoulder, taking a short nap. She smoothed over his hair, fingers gently caressing his scalp. She loved to touch him when he was quiet like this. She loved his voice, but sometimes she enjoyed the silence.

Alec was allergic to silence.

But she loved him anyway.


	16. Maps

Chapter 15 – Maps

“Let’s go find another cheap motel. We can break some new rooms.” Alec pulled his shirt over his head. “Ok?”

“Ilya first. I need your opinion on something.” Max zipped up her jeans and combed fingers through her hair. She was fully dressed, but something was off. She scanned the floor, wondering what she forgot.

Why were her feet cold? She wiggled her toes in confusion until she remembered.

“Alec! Where are my boots?”

* * * *

Max barged into Ilya’s office without knocking. She heard the guns cock and knew they were already aiming. She didn’t bother to acknowledge any of his guards. She plopped down into one of his big leather chairs and crossed her ankles in front of her.

“Ready?” Max nodded to the maps on his desk.

Ilya dismissed the guards with a simple wave. The room cleared out immediately.

* * * *

Alec was still by the door, watching the whole exchange with interest. He’d counted two guards in the room. He’d already decided who would die first if anyone was dumb enough to pull the trigger on Max.

She wasn’t even paying attention. Did she really trust anyone in this room? He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Sometimes he wanted to throttle her. Ok, maybe everyday he wanted to throttle her.

He moved only when he heard her voice.

“Alec. Get over here already.”

* * * *

Ilya watched Alec move with a predator’s grace—careful and slow—and entirely aware of its surroundings. He watched him almost casually put the gun back into his waistband, even though he knew he’d been about to take out his two most trusted guards.

It was a pleasure to see Alec move. The way the denim hugged his strong thighs. The way the shirt clung to his chest. He knew his abdomen would be defined and smooth. If only—

He blinked in disappointment. It was too bad he would never know the pleasure of his intimate company. But maybe the next best thing—was it possible?

His brain went into overdrive. Oh yes, maybe it would work.

* * * *

“I like this location.” Max pointed to an area in the mountains, somewhere in Wyoming. “There’s also this one.” She indicated a coastal region off Washington, close to the Canadian border. “What do you think?”

Alec peered over her shoulder, studying the maps. “Why?”

“We need to move TC. It’s just a matter of time before they bomb us into extinction. Or send in more troops. Or assassins. Or whatever.” Max frowned at the maps in front of her. “Unless you disagree?”

Alec stared at Max, surprised. Was she really asking for his opinion? Carefully, he spoke, wondering how much she wanted to hear. “I would hope for a peaceful solution. I know that we stayed—so that we could make a stand—but I don’t know how we can sustain it.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know that I want to sustain it.”

Max opened her mouth to protest—then just as quickly, she snapped her jaw shut. He could tell, she was about to ream him. He waited for it. Instead, she surprised him.

“Tell me why.”

He took her hand, rubbing his thumb inside her palm. “I think we just made ourselves a big target. We painted ourselves into a corner. Maybe, maybe we can help the public be—less afraid of us—but until then—we will always be perceived as a threat. Right now, we are just anomalies—and dangerous—and it might be safer too—for everyone—if we disappeared.”

He watched Max squint her eyes and wrinkle her nose in distaste.

“So—you aren’t disagreeing with me?”

* * * *

Ilya sat back, watching the entire conversation with amusement. It was entertaining. They were agreeing with each other. Except it was taking twice as long for them to understand.

Perhaps their genius level IQs weren’t kicking in?

Or—and he almost snorted in laughter—too much sex?

* * * *

“I thought you’d want to defend your decision to stay?” 

Max heard his confusion. He was being so careful with his words—and actually, she just wanted him to spit it out.

“My decision has changed to—move. Escape and evade.” Max stared at him, watching for his tells. “I think these locations are solid—defensible from many angles. Do you think we can organize a safe move for our people?”

Before he could answer, she raised her hand, looking deep into his green eyes. “Do you think we should do this? Start over somewhere else?”

Very serious brown eyes held his gaze. In a voice meant only for him, he heard the uncertainty and hope.

“Because if you disagree—if there is a better way to do this, tell me. All I know is this—I can’t do this without you.”

* * * *

Alec wanted to pull her into his arms. But he wasn’t about to put on a show for Ilya. He knew Ilya was already enjoying their performance as it was.

So he looked at the maps and went over the geographical details in the reports. He felt her hovering, concerned that he was shutting her out.

He did shut her out—for now at least. She was asking him to make a decision for their people. Might as well use his brain for something useful.

* * * *

Max felt his energy drift away from her—and settle on the mess of maps and reports on the desk. She wanted to touch him, but she didn’t want to interrupt him. She wanted to be included in whatever analysis he was doing—but she didn’t want to bias him either way. She wanted his real opinion—and if he chose to lie to her, she would know it. 

She looked around Ilya’s office, absently smiling. He had some priceless objects scattered throughout the room. In another lifetime, she would be casing the joint, pricing items to fence. Today, she was trying to determine which objects would cause the most damage when thrown. She wasn’t about to waste energy throwing dumb pillows.

* * * *

Alec looked up to find Max scanning the room, pausing on the table lamp, the iron bookends, the crystal vase, the foot stool—

Was she looking for weapons?

She turned to face him, that little smile tugging at her lips—the smile that said all hell was about to break loose if she didn’t like what came next.

He glanced at Ilya, who was smart enough to look worried. He too had noticed Max’s strange silence. Green eyes met with blue ones. They had to diffuse the situation fast.

* * * *

“I like both locations Max. Maybe we could even split teams between both?” Alec watched Max let go of the brass candlestick. “Are they for sale?”

He watched her nod in agreement. “What is the problem?”

Ilya piped up. “The seller. One day ready to sell. The next day, not so much.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “He needs convincing.”

Alec watched Max narrow her eyes at Ilya. She’d heard something. He’d missed it.

What now?

* * * *

“We have the funds. You have the paperwork ready. What do we need?” Max was holding the candlestick again, her thumb caressing the base of it.

Carefully, she put the candlestick back on the mantle above the fireplace. She trailed her fingers against the mantle as she walked back toward Ilya’s desk. She was almost strolling, except that she kept her body loose and relaxed—and ready.

She inhaled deeply. He was nervous. She could smell it. Whatever he said next, she would not like it. She leaned into Ilya’s space, her hair falling forward, her hands braced against the edge of his desk. 

“What does he want?” Her voice was low—and just barely controlled. “What aren’t you telling me?”

* * * *

“He likes the nightlife. We could convince him with one dance.” Ilya kept his voice even.

Alec erupted. “No more dancing! Max has officially retired.”

“Just one Alec.” Max stopped glaring at Ilya to look at Alec.

“No. Never. Nyet.” Then Alec went into a string of Russian that she was sure she didn’t want to interpret.

But both of them were silenced with Ilya’s next words.

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about rybka.” 

* * * *

There was a strangely satisfying smile on his face. Max picked up on it immediately.

“You planned this! The answer is no.” She took a deep breath.

“Rybka. I cannot help that the seller does not prefer—your kind of beauty.” Ilya kept still, watching Max calmly.

“Stop talking in riddles—both of you.” Alec scowled, waiting impatiently for someone to explain.

* * * *

He watched Max finally turn to him. Her fist was clenched, and she was about to hurt someone. Her next words nearly floored him—and she’d done nothing to touch him.

“He wants you to dance. On stage.”

* * * *

Max watched Alec’s face, taking in the myriad of emotions in the space of a few seconds. From stunned—to confusion—and finally, to excitement—

_What?_

“Hell yes.” He even pumped his fist in the air. “I can totally do this. I got moves Max. You’ll see.”

He twirled experimentally. “Man, the ladies will love me. And the seller will be happy to sell, no problem.”

* * * *

Max heard Alec chattering with Natalya about possible costumes. Their voices faded away as they walked down the hall, away from Ilya’s office, and toward the massive storeroom of clothes and shoes and other accessories. She heard Alec’s very serious question of, “What do you think? Fireman or policeman—too ordinary?” She did not hear Natalya’s response.

Carefully, Max closed the door and leaned against it. She met Ilya’s gaze. Now she could deal with him alone. 


	17. Candlestick

Chapter 16 – Candlestick

Ilya took in the relaxed stance of Max against the door. She was entirely too calm. She had let Alec agree to the dance without a fight. When he heard her next words, he knew he was right to worry.

“You had no right to demand a price from Alec.” He heard the threat in her voice. “I will remember this.”

His blue eyes met steady brown eyes, almost unreadable, except he felt the danger radiating off her. It was something he’d never felt before. He knew that she could be dangerous, but he’d never felt it before.

He took a deep breath, prepared to explain his logic—but Max cut him off. “You want Alec.” He watched her push off the door, walking toward him. “And you knew you would never get him alone, not like that.” She circled his desk, touching objects of good weight, favoring a slim porcelain statue. She picked it up, transferring it from hand to hand, before she carefully replaced it. 

“You. Played. Me.” With each word, she picked up a random object from his desk—and dropped it. First the bookend, which made a dull thud against the carpet—then the snow globe, which thumped, and rolled, but did not break—he saw her disappointment. When her gaze landed on the crystal vase, Ilya winced. It was going to be loud—especially if she dropped it on the tile floor instead of the carpet. He hoped the guards would ignore the commotion. 

* * * *

Alec froze. Something was not right. He looked at Natalya, who had stopped rifling through the racks of clothing. She was staring at the ceiling. By the time she started swearing, Alec had already blurred out of the room.

* * * *

“Don’t go in man.” The older guard leaned against the wall, studying the door across from him. 

“Something crashed to the floor. You heard it right?” The younger guard took a step toward the door.

“Don’t go in man.” The older guard didn’t blink.

“What’s wrong with you? Boss could be in trouble!” The younger guard was at the door, his hand hovering at the doorknob.

“Don’t. Go. In.” The older guard tried one last time, carefully enunciating each word.

At this point, the younger guard pulled open the door, aiming his gun, fully prepared to defend the boss against the lone girl.

* * * *

Ilya grimaced when the door started creeping open. He watched Max pause—she had picked up the marble candlestick. She eyed him with menace—then turned her attention to the intruder dumb enough to interrupt her tantrum.

Ilya closed his eyes when he realized that his guard had actually pulled a gun on Max. She was not going to be happy about that.

* * * *

By the time the guard took his next step, Max was already in front of him. With one hand, she managed to twist his wrist, and they both watched as his gun slipped harmlessly to the floor. She smiled when he realized that she was holding a heavy candlestick—and he was holding nothing at all. Deliberately, she held her weapon away from her—and dropped it.

Now, either he would wise up and get out of the room—or he would continue his attack and make matters worse.

Max watched him weigh his options, sizing her up, thinking she got a lucky shot in. She narrowed her eyes, warning him away. She almost turned her back on him. Almost.

She caught the movement in her peripheral vision. She stepped close and caught his fist before he connected. She crushed his fingers and pushed him to the side. She threw a leg across his waist, while the other leg scissored behind him, taking them both to the ground. 

Then she bounced up, like she’d never been on the floor, and stared him down.

“Do you really want to fight me?” Then she grinned with malice. “Because my answer is yes.”

* * * *

By the time Alec made it back to the office, Max had flattened the poor guard. He seemed to have frozen in place—but Alec could see him thinking the irrational. That he could take on Max—because she wasn’t so big after all—she was just a loud, obnoxious thing.

Maybe all that was true. Still—he knew that Max wouldn’t jump the guard for no reason. So that meant that the guard had made the first move. If it was one thing that Alec had learned by now—he hated it when anyone tried to hurt Max.

So he did the thing that made the most sense to him. He picked up the guard and threw him against the far wall—away from Max.

That way Max could yell at him—and not accidentally kill the guard.

* * * *

“Alec!” Max sputtered as she pointed to the now unconscious guard. “He wanted to fight me! Now he’s napping!”

Alec shrugged and sauntered into the office. “He was in my way.”

Then, turning his back on Max, he clapped his hands together and winked at Ilya. “You will love my costume Max! I picked it just for you.”

* * * *

Ilya sagged against his chair in relief. He really shouldn’t be excited that Alec had managed to diffuse the situation so quickly and so easily. He really shouldn’t be watching him stride across the room with his innate confidence and grace. The way the man moved—

He caught Max looking at him, brown eyes accusing him—and warning him.

When Max yelled, he knew how to handle her. He just had to give her the time and space to let it out of her system. But when she got quiet—and thoughtful—all his survival instincts went into overdrive. He almost shuddered at her next words.

“Ilya. Do we still need to discuss this—situation?”

* * * *

Natalya entered the office—and ignoring the mess of objects on the floor—and the unconscious lump of a guard—she made straight for Max.

“We ignore the men and find you a nice outfit for tonight, yes?” She waited for Max to acknowledge her—who seemed intent on a staring contest with Ilya.

“Hello?” Natalya looked between her and Ilya. “Anyone?”

No one spoke. But when Ilya finally nodded his head, she heard Alec let out a breath. She saw Max narrow her eyes before she too nodded.

Then she turned and walked out the door. Natalya looked at both men in question before she followed Max out.

* * * *

Alec waited until Max left before he let his smile fade. He did hear her mutter, “Something to make Alec cry.” But he didn’t want to dwell too much on that.

He faced Ilya. “No one hurts Max. No one attacks Max. You understand?” He looked around the room, taking in the damage, noting that she didn’t do much damage at all. “She likes you, even respects you. But you lied about something, so she’s mad. I don’t like anyone making her mad.”

He leaned against the door, crossing his arms in front of him. “It just upsets me. Which makes me more dangerous than usual.” 

“It’s when I actually enjoy killing.” When Alec smiled, it wasn’t friendly at all. That predator’s gleam—it was cold.

* * * *

The sudden groaning had both men looking at the guard. Alec stepped forward and helped him to his feet. His first instinct was to punch him. Instead, he picked up the guard’s gun and handed it to him.

“You attacked my girl.” Alec patted his back. “Next time, I kill you.”

The guard paled. “I got worried.” He rubbed his neck and winced. “Did you throw me across the room?”

“It was either that or let Max kill you.” Alec grimaced. “Believe me, you’re only alive because you were unconscious.”

“I thought the gun would scare her off.” The guard blinked slowly.

“It just makes her mad.” Alec shook his head.

“Then she dropped the candlestick and smiled.” The guard shuddered in memory.

“She’s scary that way.” Alec nodded his head in agreement.

“But she looks so innocent!” The guard shook his head, still confused.

“She does look innocent—“ Before Alec could continue, he heard a door open and close behind him. Then he caught sight of Max, only to hiss in disbelief—

“But she is evil incarnate!”

* * * *

Max smiled when she saw Alec storming toward her. She stopped and slowly twirled in front of him, her arms extended theatrically.

“What do you think?”

All she heard was a steady stream of angry Russian—so she waited until he got all his words out. In the meantime, she looked down her chest and decided to adjust the ties. Gently, she tugged, making it tighter around her ribcage, pushing cleavage up, front and center.

Alec got cross-eyed at that, and took a deep breath—before he lost it completely.

“Why are you wearing a leather napkin!” He gestured wildly at the tiny leather corset, just barely covering her assets.

Then he pointed to her miniskirt and covered his face. “And that! You won’t be able to bend down!”

“Goddammit. You were actually wearing more on stage!” He groaned, now clutching at his head. “How many men am I going to fight off tonight?”

Max only smiled more. “Oh sweetheart. I am not the damsel in this story.” Then she leaned in and patted his cheek reassuringly. “I will protect you.”


	18. Sugar

Chapter 17 – Sugar

“Max. Come on. Just put a jacket on. It’s cold.” Alec nudged her bare shoulder. “Before we get to the club.”

Max ignored him, taking in the bright lights of the many clubs they’d already passed by. “Which one Ilya?”

Ilya pointed to the red building with a flashing 440 in pink neon lights. Two burly guards stood by a door and velvet rope—with a line of people that seemed to wrap around the block.

* * * *

Max leaned against the bar, nursing her beer. She had tried to sit on the stool, but Alec was right. It was too hard to maneuver in the mini skirt. She was sure she had flashed the bartender and three other people. Assuming anyone was looking at her—which she doubted.

“You did not tell Aleksei?” Natalya nodded vaguely around her, her gaze skimming the crowd, looking for threats.

Max shrugged, noting all the exits—and the tables blocking her path. Then she looked for the shortest distance to the stage. That was more important. Alec would cause a riot—she was sure of it.

“Did he appreciate your outfit tonight?” Natalya let her gaze travel up Max’s legs, past the hips, up and over the belly button, where it finally rested on the leather corset laced so tight, she wasn’t sure how Max could breathe.

“Not yet.” Max scanned the crowd again. Other than Natalya, no other women were in the room. She sighed. How many men were here tonight?

* * * *

The lights dimmed. When the contagious beat started up, the crowd erupted.

“What is that?” Natalya tilted her head, listening to the bass guitar. “I have not heard this.”

“Def Leppard. Pour Some Sugar on Me.” Max closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “Maybe he’ll pop out in torn jeans and a leather jacket. You know, his usual outfit?”

* * * *

But Alec moved to the beat of his own drum. The spotlights found him center stage, his legs wide apart, his head bowed down, his hand holding the Stetson steady. Worn leather chaps covered his legs. A matching leather vest covered his torso. A red bandana covered his neck. Except for some leather cuffs around his wrists, his arms were bare.

His foot was already thumping to the beat—and the movement slowly rippled up his body.

It was seductive and deliberate and excruciating. 

* * * *

Max inhaled, watching him draw out the suspense. No one had seen his face yet. But they were already entranced with his body.

So when he finally lifted his head, the crowd erupted. Alec was pure eye candy. He smiled his perfect smile and raised his hands. Very slowly, he rotated his hips, matching the rhythm perfectly. When he turned his back to the audience, Max realized that he wasn’t wearing much under those chaps.

* * * *

Alec could not believe how fun it was on stage. He could basically do whatever he wanted, and the crowd loved it. His gaze scanned the room, looking for Max. He spotted her at the bar with Natalya—both of them also scanning the room like him. But why were they both alone? He’d expected them to be surrounded by men already—unless the men in San Francisco were particularly blind?

He shrugged—and let the vest fall to the floor. Hah, that was for Max dropping her bra. All he had left were the chaps—and those he could just rip off. He shifted his hips, his hands searching out the metal clips, ready to pull.

But the lights flickered and the volume of the music lowered.

Then the DJ’s next words made him pause.

“Ladies! The fastest one to the stage, the one who gets to our fine cowboy first—you get a special dance!”

* * * *

It was a mad rush. Exactly three tables in front of her—plus six gyrating, eager male bodies—were in her way.

Max blurred to the stage, leaping over the tables, pushing the first man off, making sure he landed safely on another guy. She heard some creative cussing, but she ignored it. She had to get to Alec before someone else. Otherwise, the riot would be bigger than even she anticipated.

Damn it. She forgot about the other side of the stage. One guy was almost on top of Alec. She didn’t have time to knock the guy out of the way.

So she knocked Alec out of the way instead.

* * * *

Alec hated the flickering lights. He’d finally adjusted to the dimness, only to have his vision messed up again. Now the DJ was promising some stupid dance—but first he had to survive this stampede of—men? Why were there so many men?

Where the hell were the ladies?

He looked to the bar in panic, hoping that Max would stop the madness. But all he found were empty bar stools.

He didn’t notice the blur of leather and heels coming straight for him.

* * * *

Max wrapped her arms and legs around Alec, rolling them out of the way. The angry man—the one who almost got to Alec—he started swearing in Russian. Max blinked, wondering if she should learn the language after all. It might come in handy, especially if everyone around her insisted on speaking it.

She looked at Alec, who had pulled her close, sniffing her hair—before he placed little kisses all over her face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you. I knew you would save me. Can we go? I don’t think I can finish.”

Max smiled, brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just a few more minutes.” She pointed to the restless crowd. “Grand finale. You finish your dance with me.”

Alec stiffened. “No, no, no, no, no. You keep your clothes on. That’s the deal.”

“Yes. My clothes stay on.” She tapped his chest. “But you. Just gyrate a bit. Take your pants off. Then we’re done.” She touched his face. “Ok?”

“You’re not part of my routine.” Alec wrinkled his nose. “What do I do with you?” 

“Anything you want.” Max smiled slowly, pushing her chest out, reminding him of how little she was wearing.

* * * *

Alec stood up, his arms raised high, his leg picking up the beat of the music. Then carefully reaching over, he pulled Max up. He walked a slow circle around her, deliberately eyeing her up and down. 

He found a wooden chair, and almost carelessly, he pushed Max toward it. Max stumbled but managed to sit on it without falling. She gave him a dirty look.

Alec only smiled at her. Then he walked up to her, his pelvis at her eye level, his hips gyrating. He reached out, both hands cupping her cheeks, holding her face still, his hips swiveling and thrusting—except this time—it looked like he was fucking her mouth.

The crowd went wild.

* * * *

Ilya sighed, wishing he was on stage with Alec. “He is a natural, yes?”

Natalya shrugged, eyeing Max instead.

“He will have a long line to his dressing room.”

“You get stupid over this man? Max will kill you.” Natalya narrowed her gaze at him, measuring his intent. 

“He will never be mine.” Ilya shuddered, watching Alec’s hips hungrily. “But I still like to look.”

“Don’t look too much.” Natalya leaned against the bar, taking in the noisy crowd. “Even I cannot save you from Max. She is stronger and faster than she lets on.”

Ilya said nothing.

“Look. She made it to the stage first, tackled him before anyone else got to him.” She started pointing to random men in the room. “How many people tonight? Fifty, sixty? All of them hungry—and willing—to pay for one night with him.” Then she nodded to Max. “How many people do you think she’ll take out before anyone touches him?” She paused, staring hard to Ilya. “How many people do you think he will take out if anyone touches her?”

“Your point?” Ilya finally looked away from Alec, so that he could address Natalya directly.

“Do not get between them.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Then, because she knew Ilya—

“Stop playing these games.”

* * * *

The noise level went up. People were jumping and cheering and altogether excited.

Max was bent over the chair, her legs spread wide. Alec was holding her hips, pushing and rubbing up against her.

He had finally lost the chaps—and the song was coming to an end.

Alec was sweating—and grinning like a fool. He waved his Stetson and flung it to the crowd. Then he spanked Max’s ass when the song hit its final notes.

The lights went out—and the crowd erupted again.

“Pour some sugar on me!”

“Come back sugar!”

But the stage was finally empty.

* * * *

As soon as the room went dark, Max started blurring around the stage, picking up clothes and throwing them at Alec.

“Move, move. Get dressed.” Max found one boot, wondering where the other one could be. Right, she didn’t care. She pulled Alec off the stage, away from the crowds, away from the attention.

She paused when she realized that Alec was moving slower than normal.

“Alec?” She searched his face, suddenly concerned that he was so quiet. “What’s wrong?”

He said nothing. He only dropped the clothes in his arms and started stalking toward her.

* * * *

Nothing was wrong. He just wanted Max. He had her bent over the chair, and he forgot that he was on stage. He forgot that people were watching.

He didn’t care about any of it.

The stage hadn’t mattered to Max either. She’d followed his lead, letting him have his fun—enjoying his touch, even with an audience of crazy. 

Sometimes he caught himself wondering if he was worth loving. Sure, he was worth fucking—and he’d always thought that was enough. But Max had come blazing through his life, teaching him that life was more.

That he was worth more.

He’d never had that before. Someone loving him so openly—and reveling in every moment of it.

She wasn’t even trying—and she always managed to wreck him.


	19. Wanted

Chapter 18 – Wanted

Alec pulled her close, his mouth hungry, kissing her deeply, silencing any questions. He felt her surprise, and he felt her surrender—that was still the best feeling. Knowing that a woman as strong (and as stubborn) as Max would yield to him. Not that she always would—but it was nice when she didn’t fight him all the time.

She pulled away, and he let her. But instead of leading him to the dressing rooms, she headed for the nearest exit.

He thought about Ilya and the mysterious investor, knowing they wouldn’t like him disappearing like this. But he’d kept his word. He did the one dance, and that was enough.

Max waited by the exit, a vision in her ridiculous outfit. It didn’t cover much. But he was going to have fun taking those leather strips off her.

* * * * *

“They’re gone.” Natalya checked all dressing rooms. “What did you expect?”

Ilya said nothing, staring at the ludicrous amount of vases and roses and every kind of flower he couldn’t name.

“You gave Max the final paperwork, yes?”

Ilya nodded.

“She owns the properties now.” Natalya leaned against the wall, arms crossed in front of her. “Let her go. Let him go.”

* * * * *

Natalya would have preferred to go to her penthouse, even though it was too far across town. It was her safe haven. A place only she knew about—and of course, her trusted elite guard.

But once a month, she stayed at her small apartment, just to remind herself, just to relive the memories. Mostly, so she could remember that she’d been loved before, that life had been good once.

She entered the old apartment building, knowing that most of the units were abandoned. Still, when she reached the front door, the captain of her guard blocked her entry, forcing her to wait in the hallway. Impatient, she tapped her foot, counting the pinstripes on the wallpaper. Sergei didn’t take long, but she was just tired—tired of all the things she couldn’t have. She had all but forgotten wanting Max, and today had been excruciating. She was glad that Max had left the club early. All the pent-up desire was simply irritating.

She finally noticed Sergei waiting by the open doorway. He said nothing, even as she nodded to him before crossing the threshold. She tossed her coat on the sofa, walking briskly to her bedroom. It was nothing fancy, just a queen bed, an antique dresser, and an old lamp in the room.

She slipped out of her strappy heels, enjoying the flash of red soles—before she carefully arranged them on her shoe shelf. Then she touched the old rosary around her neck, the one she wore under her clothes, the one nobody ever saw. Gently, she stroked the round beads, remembering her brother’s smile when he’d given it to her, so many years ago.

Reluctantly, she let go of the rosary, taking off her diamond earrings instead, placing them on the dresser—right next to the jewel-studded knife. She took a deep breath, staring at the magnificence of it—hating it and loving it all at once.

She picked up the knife, touching the sapphires in the hilt, the blue reminding her of Mischa’s eyes. He had given it to her, just before she’d left for San Francisco. She had worried then, that he knew about her training, but he’d only hugged her tight, telling her the knife was so pretty, just like her.

She had relaxed then. He wasn’t choosing weapons for her. He only wanted to give her a gift. He knew that she loved sapphires, so he had chosen it for her.

It was the last gift he’d given her.

A week later, he was dead.

* * * * *

Ilya was disappointed. He had known it was a risk, that Alec would disappear soon after the performance. Still, it had surprised him that Max moved so quickly to intercept him.

It was like she knew he had other intentions.

Not that he expected Alec to leave Max, but it would have been interesting to present the idea. He had wanted Alec from the first time he’d seen him, all furious and ready to kill him. He should have been afraid. But he’d only felt excitement—he’d felt _alive._

Natalya seemed to believe they’d already left town. But he knew his dark angel. She had caught him lusting after Alec. Max had given him a look that he’d never seen before.

It was more than a warning.

It was a promise.

She wasn’t done with him.

* * * * *

Reverently, Natalya returned the knife to her dresser, placing it by his old wallet. It was the only thing that identified his body. Because when she had shown up to the morgue, even she couldn’t recognize him. 

She almost picked it up, the old wallet, just so she could remember his joy when she’d given it to him all those years ago. She denied herself that little bit of happiness. Instead, she reached for the folder underneath, knowing it would fuel her rage.

It was the case file of her brother’s unsolved murder. She had bribed every official, every officer, determined to find that one piece of crucial information. She had never found it. As the years had gone by, she had spread out her search, widening her network, studying any murders that seemed similar.

She knew it by heart, but she read the police report anyway, hoping she’d missed something. Her breath caught, and she felt it then, the injustice of it all—her innocent brother dead, a man who had never hurt anyone. But his killer was still out there, free.

She screamed then, the heartache and the grief mixing to a volatile high. She threw the folder across the room, watching the papers scatter harmlessly, the gruesome photos mocking her.

She fell to her knees, allowing herself to feel the loneliness then, allowing the pain to come, the sobbing a welcome relief. She clenched her fists, sharp nails digging in, reminding her to have faith—that the Blessed Mother would guide her—just as Mischa had always believed.

On her hands and knees, she gathered the papers, the photos, all evidence on the floor. Systematically, she sorted everything before placing them into the folder. Until she froze on the last document, a wanted poster from Seattle, something she received over a year ago.

Stunned, she smoothed out the paper, studying the image, the sudden epiphany nearly choking her.

_The killer was in San Francisco._

* * * * *

Alec pulled Max into his embrace, enjoying a rare occurrence—Max dead asleep before him. Apparently, fighting off the hordes of men had left her exhausted. He smiled at the thought, remembering her tossing one rather massive trucker who was twice her size.

The aftermath of it all was startling though. The dance onstage had left him energized, with a certain clarity—

_People only wanted him for the wrong reasons._

Except for Max. First she had wanted nothing to do with him. Then she wanted to fight with him, constantly disagreeing with him, and just annoying him in general. But today she loved him. Even with his bad track record, Max still wanted him. 

She wanted him for all the right reasons. 

Max might have a tough exterior, but she had touched something in him, something he hadn’t known existed—his humanity. He’d always thought he was just supposed to be a killing machine. While he was good at it (damned good)—he’d never questioned it. Until Max, that is. She’d always had these big ideas of the greater good. She’d always had clear purpose.

He’d never considered any of that important. He was just a soldier after all—meant to follow orders. He’d killed too many to count—and with the exception of Rachel—he hadn’t questioned much.

He stared at ceiling, remembering that day. Rachel had loved him—of that, he was sure. But when he’d confessed his true reason for being there? He’d hoped for the impossible. That her feelings were strong enough to overcome her doubts.

He’d tried to save her, save her family. Everything had backfired, and for once—he’d failed, at the mission—at trying to redeem himself.

He’d saved no one that day. 

Years later, when he’d found out Rachel was still alive, he’d gone to the house, allowing himself to get caught. Waiting for her father to pull the trigger—to finally get the justice he deserved.

Except, as usual—Max had interrupted his plans. He had only wanted death. But she wanted him alive.

She had saved him that day.

And he never thanked her for it.

* * * * *

Seething with rage, Natalya got off the floor, the wanted poster crumpled in her hand. She let her mind go blank, until ideas started forming, irrelevant details suddenly important. The trail could not lead back to her. Max would be suspicious if Natalya spoke up. 

So it had to come from Ilya then.

It was something she never understood, the relationship of Max and Ilya. Neither of them had explained how they met, what they meant to each other. Clearly they weren’t even related, yet Ilya still treated her like family.

She had to stop them from leaving.

All she had to do was figure out how.


	20. Regret

Chapter 19 – Regret

Max waited until she heard Alec’s breathing even out. When she was certain that he was asleep, she carefully moved his arm—before she slowly scooted away—and rolled off the bed. Blinking in the darkness, she found her discarded clothes, quickly dressing, walking across the room—before she paused at the door.

Her first instinct was to disappear for an hour—and deal with business. But if Alec woke up before she got back? He would not be happy.

So she found a napkin, scribbled a few words, leaving it on the desk. It would have to be enough.

She needed to see Ilya alone.

* * * * *

Ilya never heard her enter his office. He’d dismissed his guards earlier, wanting to avoid the same misunderstanding with candlesticks—assuming Max showed up.

He had his back to the door, something he rarely did. He usually sat behind his desk, like that would protect him from any enemies. He knew no furniture would stop Max from getting to him. So he had stood up, facing the window behind his desk, enjoying the scattered lights throughout the city.

It was nearly 3 A.M.—and he thought maybe he was wrong, that he’d overestimated his importance. That Max did not consider him a threat at all. Then, even though it made no sense—he felt the energy shift in the air, like he wasn’t alone anymore.

He was right.

* * * * *

It was odd to see Ilya staring out the window like that. He was alone and unprotected. He would never do that.

When he turned around, he didn’t seem surprised to see her at all. In fact, he seemed relieved. He even smiled in welcome.

Then it was like all those years ago, just the two of them—no witnesses, no pretenses.

* * * * *

“Rybka, I was hoping you would stop by before you left the city.” He watched Max tilt her head, brown eyes unreadable.

“Your Aleksei was … spectacular. It was too bad that you left so early. His dressing room was filled with every kind of flower.” Still she remained quiet, just watching him, waiting for his next words.

But he had nothing else to say. 

* * * * *

Max was tempted to keep silent—and walk right out of the office. She wasn’t sure what she’d hoped to accomplish. All of a sudden, she was just tired—and she wanted to get back to Alec.

But that would resolve nothing. So Max sat on the edge of his desk, swinging one leg carelessly, almost like she was bored.

“Was there even an investor?” She waited for his answer. She expected him to lie. 

He surprised her instead.

* * * * *

“Yes.” Ilya replied, his voice even. “He was very pleased with the performance.” He knew that Max would hear any lies, so he didn’t even bother. Plus, what exactly would his lie be? 

“This was extra.” He took a folder off his desk, handing it to her. “Tell me if it was worth the dance.”

He watched her eye the folder with suspicion. But she reluctantly took it, quickly scanning through the contents.

He saw her reaction—the surprise she tried to hide.

He smiled. He had never surprised her before.

* * * * *

“How did you get this?” She carefully closed the folder, looking up, studying Ilya’s face, wondering what he wasn’t saying.

“I have never regretted that day. Saving your life.” She walked right up to him, stopping just a foot away. She knew that no one got this close to him. Not even Natalya.

“Was I wrong?” She stared at him, her eyes unblinking, waiting for his next move.

Again he surprised her.

* * * * *

“So much fire rybka.” He cupped her cheek with his hand, watching her lovely eyes widen in shock—before they narrowed in suspicion. He doubted many people got near enough to even touch her.

He felt her strength, when she immediately wrapped fingers around his wrist. He also felt her warning—so he dropped his hand, nodding at her, acknowledging that they still had boundaries.

“No regrets today.” He watched her carefully, before he decided to change tactics. “Tell me, how is your journey … this redemption you were seeking so long ago?”

* * * * *

Max was spinning out of control. She had taken the folder without thinking. What could it be anyway? More real estate paperwork?

She was so wrong.

She had found herself staring at her personnel file—from Manticore. Every personal—unnatural—detail spelled out, for anyone to see. There was even a DNA analysis explaining her blood work. Then—

_What the hell? Was he touching her?_

* * * * *

Ilya had underestimated the importance of the folder. For any other person, he knew that it would have been leverage.

But he did not have that kind of relationship with her. Why would he ever threaten her when she could so easily take his life? When she could have let him die years ago?

* * * * *

Max understood. He was changing the subject, and she would let him. Enough so that he knew that the stakes were real. That she had more to lose than she ever did.

“I fell off the wagon.” She watched him frown in confusion. She almost smiled then, knowing that he didn’t understand.

“I forgot my promise not to kill.” She watched him go still. Then she added what she had never admitted to herself—

“It felt good.”

* * * * *

Ilya did not scare so easily. He had recognized her darkness all those years ago. He had never condemned her for it.

So he nodded, before asking the one question she wasn’t expecting.

“Did they deserve it?”

* * * * *

Max shook her head and laughed.

“You win Ilya.” She watched him, thoughtful, finally realizing something he’d tried telling her years ago. That he wasn’t judging her at all. That he understood her—and accepted her.

“They deserved death. I do not regret my actions.”

* * * * *

He watched her release the tension in her shoulders, her laugh contagious.

“Will you get back on this—wagon?” He studied her lovely features, watching her frown. “Is this redemption … worth it?”

He watched her step away from him, so she could stand beside him instead. Together they stared out the window.

He heard the sigh. He knew he wouldn’t see her after this.

* * * * *

“I don’t know.” Max turned from the window to look at him. “I keep trying—and failing.”

She met his gaze, those clear blue eyes unblinking, something swirling in those depths, something she couldn’t read.

She wasn’t prepared for his next words.

* * * * *

“You are a good person rybka. Never doubt that.” Then he took her hands, so she would understand his sincerity. “Look at this old, ugly face.”

She had been staring at their joined hands. Still, she did not pull away. Instead, she looked up, meeting his clear blue gaze.

Then she said a few words, reminding him that she knew him best.

* * * * *

“You are not ugly Ilya.” Max kept her voice solemn. “You earned that scar. It is mysterious.”

His laugh was loud and unexpected. Then he shook his head, before he asked her something, sending her right to the edge again.

“Do you want to meet the investor tomorrow? He has another folder for you.”

* * * * *

Ilya felt her grip tighten on his hands—before she pulled away from him. She had not been expecting that.

He watched her step back, sliding the folder under her leather jacket.

She said nothing. She only turned away from him, walking toward his door. He knew that she might even leave without answering. So he answered for her.

“He is a dangerous man rybka. Do not take this meeting. Take your Aleksei and go.”

* * * * *

Max was tired of Ilya surprising her. Just when she thought she understood him—he went and gave her completely opposite advice. He told her to run.

“You don’t want me to stay?” She was still facing the door. When she heard nothing from him, slowly she turned around. “You don’t want Alec?”

Finally, it was his turn to look surprised.

* * * * *

Ilya thought he had dodged that particular question. He remembered when Tiny had stopped by his office to say, “You’ll like this one boss.” He’d been intrigued.

He didn’t even bother trying to mislead her.

“I do want him. But he is yours.” He watched a myriad of emotions cross her face, from exasperation to irritation to suspicion. “Please understand rybka. Nothing gets between you and me.” Then just to remind her—

“We have a blood oath, yes?”

* * * * *

Max leaned against the door, already done with the conversation. So yet another person wanted Alec. Would it ever end?

She closed her eyes, letting her senses take over. She didn’t feel any antagonism coming from Ilya. If anything, his energy seemed low—like he was done with the conversation too.

She opened her eyes, clear brown eyes meeting his blue ones. She nodded then, acknowledging him, remembering the oath, knowing that he’d never done anything to harm her.

Then she asked the question that she should have asked first—before she let him distract her.

“Do you know his name?”

* * * * *

Ilya shook his head. “But I remember him. He raided one of my warehouses, just after you left. He was looking for you.”

“I denied knowing you of course.” He frowned, remembering that night. “I don’t think he ever believed me.”

“Do you know him?”

* * * * *

Max forced her entire body still. She had a terrible suspicion that she knew. She really hoped she was wrong though.

“Maybe.” She shrugged. Could be, Ilya was right. It was time to leave San Francisco.

Then she watched him open a desk drawer, pulling out a small black object. He walked to her, offering a burner phone.

She took it, her mind going into overdrive. Tracking a cell phone was easy. So was this a trick?

* * * * *

“I will text you the address and time. You tell me if you want to show up.”

“If I don’t hear from you, then I’ll assume that you and Aleksei are gone.” He opened his arms wide, his smile genuine. “I will miss you rybka.”

The last farewell between them had been formal. Him giving her instructions on how to contact him. Her promising to stay out of trouble.

But he saw her blinking rapidly, before she walked toward him, arms wrapping around his waist, offering something he’d never had before—friendship without strings. He enjoyed the feel of someone close to him, someone who didn’t want anything from him, someone who didn’t fear him.

When she walked away, when she remained silent, he understood the finality of the moment. But first she offered a gift, a few simple words—

“No regrets Ilya.” Then she was gone.


	21. Doughnuts

Chapter 20 – Doughnuts

Alec woke up with a cold back. Usually Max pulled the covers over him, so it made no sense. He reached across the bed, absently feeling for her body.

He felt nothing but rumpled bed sheets. Frowning, he opened first one eye, then the other one—carefully scanning the motel room. His gaze went to the front door—and he knew, even before he got out of bed.

Her boots were missing. Max was gone.

* * * *

Alec leaned against a parking meter, wondering what direction Max would come from. He’d gotten out of bed, looking for clues, thinking it ridiculous that someone would kidnap Max—and not him.

Then he’d found the stupid napkin disguised as a note. So Max had deliberately waited for him to fall asleep—before she snuck out.

He’d felt something deep inside twist—and it felt familiar. It felt like betrayal. He was so tired of asking Max to trust him. When was she going to stop disappearing on him? Could she just talk to him—so that they could make decisions together?

He took a sip of tepid coffee—before he noticed a slight movement above. Squinting, he kept his gaze focused on the rooftops. That was her—blurring across rooftops again.

So she wasn’t dead after all. Good to know.

* * * *

Max expected to find a sleeping Alec—or an awake but annoyed Alec. She found neither. She walked into an empty motel room instead.

It was like a maid had been there. The bed was perfectly made, the desk against the wall, the chair tucked in.

She knew it was dumb, but she checked the bathroom, the closet, even the drawers. Not that he would be hiding in any of those places, but she wanted to know.

She found nothing. Not a trace of Alec. His clothes, his boots, even his backpack was gone.

* * * *

Alec sighed in appreciation as he inspected the colorful doughnuts in the pink box. He’d lucked out. It was just past 4:00A.M. but the bakery nearby had been open. He’d never had hot doughnuts before.

They were delicious.

He thought about shoving the box in his backpack, but he didn’t want them to get crushed. So he carried the box, wondering which flavor Max would like. Then he realized—

_He didn’t care._

He would eat all the damn doughnuts himself.

* * * *

Max watched the digital clock on the nightstand blinking 5:00A.M. Almost an hour that Alec had been missing—and she couldn’t call him because his phone was on the nightstand, right next to the irritating clock. Why would he leave his phone?

She dragged the chair away from the desk, away from the window—placing it just across the door. She doubted he’d climb through the window, but just in case, she would have a good view.

She left the folder on the desk. Then she dropped herself into the chair. She focused on her breathing, hoping that he was safe, that she was just overreacting.

She hoped that Alec was just exploring San Francisco—and not really gone for good. 

* * * *

Alec strolled into the motel room at 6:00 A.M. on the dot. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

He saw a blur that had to be Max—and the pink box went flying as she tackled him. He winced, knowing he couldn’t save the doughnuts.

Before he could even say anything, Max was on him, her fists pounding into his chest, her tears very real, her breathing uneven. She kept repeating herself, like he didn’t hear her the first 10 times—

“You left. You left. You left.”

* * * *

Max felt him capture her hands, forcing her to stop using him as a punching bag. She looked at him, needing some reassurance, finding none.

His green eyes, usually so loving—were shuttered. She could not read him.

It was almost like the first time they met, when he’d walked in all cocky—and resigned to her company. He wasn’t impressed with her—and that he’d made clear.

Right now, he was very patiently waiting for her to stop her tantrum. He had both of her hands in one hand. He almost looked bored.

She pulled her hands away, unsure. Then he smiled at her—but it didn’t reach his eyes. Something in her died a little. Was he lost to her then?

Were they done?

* * * *

Alec watched the uncertainty flicker in her eyes—then he saw the pain—before he saw the horror of it sink in.

_Good, goddammit._

She would know he was serious. He was tired of playing catch up.

* * * *

Max had never been so close to Alec—knowing that they were miles apart.

He was tolerating her—she could feel it.

She climbed off him, wiping her tears, not knowing how to fix this. So she did the only thing she knew how to do.

She grabbed her backpack and headed to the door.

* * * *

“I got some doughnuts. You want one before you go?” Alec opened the box, surprised to find them relatively unharmed. He licked some chocolate icing from the inside of the box—before he offered his leftovers—a maple bar, a half-eaten blueberry doughnut—and something with sprinkles. 

He watched her freeze at the door, her hand ready to turn the knob. He wanted to grab her, force her to stay. But he really needed her to make that decision.

She needed to choose him. He wanted her to choose him.

Would she?

* * * *

_Doughnuts?_

She was about to walk out the door, and he wanted to offer one for the road?

_What the hell?_

Before she could answer him, she heard his voice, that voice she loved so much. She heard him mocking her—

“Or you could just run away. You’re so good at that.”

* * * *

He watched her freeze—and he could feel the anger radiating off her body. He almost smiled then. 

So Max was done feeling sorry for herself. Was she going to fight back then?

* * * *

Max closed her eyes, her breathing ragged, knowing that he was hurting her deliberately. It was like they had never loved each other—like anything they had ever shared was nothing.

She felt the silent tears running down her face. She leaned her forehead against the door, breathing, just trying to breathe. Then she opened her hand, the one holding her backpack—and she let that drop.

She felt it then—all the pent up anguish, the worries, the doubts. She was trying so hard to do it all—and she was failing spectacularly. So she let it all go. If this was how they ended, then she would go down fighting.

She loved Alec—but she wasn’t going to hold back anymore. She would give him everything she had—and watch him bleed.

* * * *

Alec had never seen Max so still. He didn’t know what to make of it. He thought about moving back, just to set the pink box down. 

He should have. He didn’t see her right hook coming.

* * * *

Max was fast. She pivoted, throwing her entire weight into the punch. Her fist connected, and she didn’t feel the pain of it. Instead she watched him stagger, clutching at his jaw. Then he shook his head, his eyes narrowed at her.

He blocked her next strike—and the next one too.

Then he had the audacity to smirk, before he said—

“You only get one free shot. No more Max.”

* * * *

She surprised him then. She only nodded, before she dropped her fists, automatically flexing her fingers. Then she stared at her left hand, saying nothing. When he thought he would have to speak up, to finally stop the fight between them—

She stopped the fight.

She whispered his name—and he heard the yearning in her voice. Something in his chest tightened up. She reached for him then, touching his face—her hand caressing his cheek, the same one she’d just decked only moments before. He saw regret in her eyes—and love too—and suddenly he was just tired.

Before he could speak, he felt her thumb skim over his mouth, her fingers behind his neck, touching his barcode. Then her hand moved, tracing a slow path from his neck, to his shoulder, and down his arm. He knew then, that everything would be ok—because she would take his hand, link their fingers, like she always did. Then he would pull her close, and they would kiss, and the dumb fight would be over.

It did not happen that way.

* * * *

Max loved touching his face. He didn’t seem so angry now—maybe skeptical—but she felt a little less of his cruelty.

Because she knew it could be the last time she touched him, she lingered at his neck, skimming his barcode—showing her love—even if he didn’t believe her. When she finally took his hand, she gave his love back.

She wanted to taste him one more time, just a small kiss—but she didn’t trust herself. She let herself take in his full beauty, before she finally spoke.

“Be happy Alec.”

* * * *

Alec felt her fingers thread through his, and he watched her, enjoying her touch, grateful that they were done fighting. Except—

She didn’t keep her hand in his. She pulled away, closing his hand into a fist. 

Confused, he opened his hand, staring at a small object, not understanding—until he found it hard to breathe, his heart suddenly racing.

_What the fuck?_

He was holding Max’s ring, the titanium band mocking him, reminding him of promises he failed to keep.


	22. Blankets

Chapter 21 – Blankets

Max shut down. She only knew that she had to leave. She wanted to blur, but it was way past dawn. There were too many pedestrians already.

She walked briskly, until she was right in front of her favorite vagrant. He was zipped up tight in a ripped sleeping bag, bits of fluff escaping from the seams.

She crouched in front of him, before she shook him awake.

"Hey Teddy." She waited for him to open his eyes, and when he did, she felt a sudden pang, his green eyes so much like Alec's—except without the fire. Teddy’s green was faded—like someone, or something, had broken him long ago.

"I'm going for a ride. Wanna trade?" She held out bottled water and crumpled bills.

She watched his eyes widen, before he shook his head. "Too much Miss Maxie." Then he unzipped his sleeping bag, stepping out slowly, clad in loose jeans and a worn shirt.

"Where are your blankets?" Max frowned at him. "A shirt’s not enough.”

Then her jaw dropped when she realized he was pointing to her bike. It was draped in all the colorful blankets, from stripes to solids, a mix of knotty yarn, snagged cotton, and ragged fleece.

"Oh Teddy." Max felt sudden tears—and she did her best to blink them away. He was willing to freeze, just to protect her bike, just to keep her happy.

"I don't have much." She murmured, digging into her backpack, knowing she had extra clothes. Then her fingers touched something, and before she could stop herself, she was pulling out one of her prized possessions.

She sucked in her breath, clutching at Alec’s favorite brown sweater. She loved it on him. She had taken it when she'd disappeared for a month. She brought it to her face, inhaling deeply, the scent of Alec still in the fabric.

It was time to let go. It was time to let Alec go. So she did. She offered the sweater to Teddy, knowing that he would get more use out of it.

She watched his eyes light up, his eager hands petting the soft knit, before he carefully pulled it over his head. She heard him sigh, and she knew she made the right decision.

She pulled each blanket off her bike, folding it slowly, stacking them on top of each other. Then she got on her bike, touching the handlebars, already wishing that she’d never returned to San Francisco.

* * * *

Alec blurred to the sidewalk, uncaring if anyone saw him. He knew that Max was headed for her bike. He grimaced, seeing her across the street, talking to the homeless guy living in the parking lot.

For some reason, he could not locate their bikes. So what was she doing? And did she just pull out his missing sweater—and give it away?

Then he shook his head, knowing that he could replace the sweater—but he couldn’t replace Max.

He crossed the street, watching her move blankets, folding them—until she finally revealed her bike underneath. His breath caught, realizing that she was only moments away from riding out of his life for good.

Then he straightened his spine, knowing that Max was going nowhere. He was holding her keys after all.

* * * *

Max inserted her spare key into the ignition, turning it, hearing the engine come to life. She loved the sound of her bike—but today, she heard nothing. Her movements were automatic.

She revved it a few times, before she let it go idle. Soon she would release the clutch and go.

Nothing would stop her forward momentum.

She was wrong.

* * * *

Alec knew the sound of Max’s bike. She would rev it exactly three times before she idled for one minute. 

He stared at her keys—his brain not comprehending how she even started the bike. Then knowing that he didn’t have any time left, he blurred to Max, stopping right in front of her bike.

She didn’t see him. She didn’t even look up.

So he called her name—only to realize that it was too late. She wasn’t stopping.

_Fuck. This would hurt._

* * * *

Now she was hearing voices. She thought she heard Alec, but she figured that she had finally lost it. Then she looked up to see his face—and she was too startled to do anything but release the clutch.

The bike lurched forward, stalling—but not before ramming into Alec. She saw his arms flailing, before he fell backward. She heard the swearing, probably in Russian—but it didn’t matter to her.

She thought about restarting her bike. All she had to do was back up a little and go around him.

That was all she had to do.

She didn’t.

* * * *

Alec lost his balance when nearly 500 pounds of heavy metal tried to crush him. 

He saw stars for a moment, but mostly he saw sky. Then he saw Max’s friend leaning over him, wearing his favorite sweater. He waved at Alec, like it was normal for him to be lying on the gravel of the parking lot.

He groaned, slowly raising himself up, leaning on his elbows. He looked at Max, who seemed frozen on her bike. She was staring at him blankly, like she wasn’t sure what to make of him.

Then he saw her drop her foot to the gravel—and knew the woman was about to back up and leave him flat on his back.

_Goddammit._

* * * *

Max pulled the key from the ignition, tucking it into her pocket. She set the bike on its kickstand before she walked over to Alec.

He hadn’t moved at all. She thought he had at least raised himself off the ground—but now he was just lying there—his arm over his face.

Slowly, she walked over to him, briefly scanning him for injuries. She didn’t see any blood. So she asked him only one question—

“Are you dead?”

* * * *

Alec heard her boots crunching on the gravel—before he felt her shadow fall over him. Really, he was just surprised that she hadn’t tried to ride away—or run over him twice. 

He moved his arm, so that he could see her clearly. She looked bewildered mostly, like he wasn’t supposed to stop her from leaving.

She really wasn’t the brightest bulb sometimes.

When she asked her ridiculous question, he almost laughed. But she looked so serious that he decided to answer her.

* * * *

“Well, you broke my chest in half.” She watched him gesture wildly all over his body, his hands animated. “And other manly parts.”

She frowned, sure that she didn’t hit him hard. Wasn’t he built to take a small hit? Even a big hit?

“You’re supposed to be taking care of me Max. You can’t be running me over like this.” She opened her mouth to reply—only for him to wave his hand, dismissing her comments.

“I can’t be road kill. It’s not a good look. Wait until I tell the kids how you tried to end me over a box of doughnuts.” He met her gaze then, green eyes swirling with gold—and she saw what she hadn’t seen in the room.

His love for her.

* * * *

He watched her carefully, her brown eyes darting all over his body, looking for damage. Then he saw her bite the inside of her cheek, like she couldn’t decide what to do. He wondered what she would say, wondered how he would react—until he realized that it didn’t matter.

They weren’t done.

* * * *

Max sank to her knees, her hands expertly feeling his body, looking for breaks. Everything seemed fine. When she leaned back, pulling her hands away, Alec surprised her with his speed. He captured both of her hands, pulling her toward him. She collapsed onto him, her elbows digging into his chest, her face just inches from his.

Before she could even complain, before she could even think it, Alec had already closed the gap, both hands cradling her face, his mouth claiming hers.

Her mind went blank from shock—before her heart sang with joy. He wasn’t kissing her goodbye at all. He was telling her to shut up.

* * * *

“I should have done this first. Kissed you quiet.” Alec murmured into her hair. “I should have known you’d throw my doughnuts across the room.”

Max looked at him, saying nothing. When she looked away, he remembered that Teddy was nearby. She pushed off Alec, shaking her head at Teddy. Then she sighed, gesturing toward Alec.

He watched Teddy pick up his precious pile of blankets, carefully shuffling toward them. Then with a big smile, he offered that pile to Alec. “More comfortable on these.”

Alec shook his head, refusing the offer. “You keep them. You gotta stay warm right?” Then studying Teddy, seeing only kindness in him, he added—

“Nice sweater man. It looks good on you.”

* * * *

Max heard the words, knowing that he’d figured out she’d stolen his sweater. She waited for him to rat her out—to take the sweater away from Teddy.

But he did neither.

Instead he complimented Teddy—before he stood up, extending his hand to her. Then quietly, so that only she could hear—

“Can we go back inside Max?”

He waited patiently, watching her, until she placed her hand in his.

That should have been enough.

It wasn’t.

* * * *

Alec thought he was done being angry. He wasn’t. 

He looked at Max’s hand in his. He should have felt relief. All he felt was exhaustion. Because he wasn’t in the mood to do any more chasing, he did the most logical thing he could think of.

He threw Max over shoulder, whistling as he crossed the street, waving at the bystanders pointing to him.

_Damn, this felt good._


	23. Phenomenal

Chapter 22 – Phenomenal

Max hated being carried like a sack of potatoes. Cursing, she pummeled his back repeatedly, demanding he put her down—her efforts wasted on a suddenly deaf Alec.

_Did he just dump her on the bed like dirty laundry?_

Furious, she spit out her hair and jumped off the bed. She narrowed her gaze at him, ready with her words—unprepared for his. 

* * * *

Alec stepped back, knowing that Max would come out swinging. He was right. She looked about ready to kill him.

He took a deep breath, raising one hand, as if that would stop her. But he only knew one thing. He needed to speak first. 

“We spend all night loving each other. You finally drift off—but my mind is spinning—and I’m just so goddamn happy I can’t sleep. Because I love you so much it hurts. And I know that you feel the same way. That you want me just the way I am. That I’m enough for you.”

His voice broke, his green eyes bright with pain. “Then I wake up—and you’re gone Max. You sneak out like some guilty teenager—like everything we did was wrong.” Then he closed his eyes, forcing himself to say the next words—

“Like I’m nothing to you.”

But he wasn’t done, not yet.

“You’re just like everyone else Max. You fuck me, then you leave.” He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze, not hiding his anguish.

“Is that all I’m good for?”

* * * *

Max was stunned enough to listen without interrupting. Then, when she realized that he was waiting for her to comfort him—

She yelled at him instead.

“You’re stupid. I love you.” Max shoved Alec out of her way. “Your phenomenal fucking just happens to be a bonus.”

Then she kicked the chair, before she picked it up and threw it at him. “Why are we fighting? I left you a note.”

* * * *

_Phenomenal fucking?_

That was all kinds of awesome actually. Some of the pain eased, and Alec almost smiled, before he realized that Max addressed exactly none of his concerns. Now she was claiming she left a note?

Damn, and throwing objects again. But that chair was bigger and heavier than a pillow or vase. He got out of the way.

Before the fight escalated even more, he raised both hands in surrender, asking for a time out. Then he picked up the pathetic note, waving it at her.

“You mean this napkin? Please.”

* * * *

Max threw the phonebook next. It was heavy, but it almost hit him.

“I left you a note. You just left.” She could feel herself losing it—just at the brink. It wouldn’t take much to send her over.

She waited for him to admit that he left without a word.

He didn’t.

* * * *

“I left you a note too.” Then he gave her the napkin. “Guess you didn’t see it huh?”

He watched her blink uncertainly, looking at him first, then the napkin. He saw her reaction, and he almost laughed. Yeah, he felt that way when he’d seen her note.

It was absurd.

* * * *

Max studied the napkin in disbelief. She had written a cryptic, “Be back soon.”

Right underneath, he’d written, “Me too.”

_What the hell?_

* * * *

Alec studied Max, her entire body stiff—before she let the napkin drop. Then he watched her eyes slowly scanning the room—looking for what, he wasn’t sure. Unless she planned to pick up the desk next, there wasn’t much left to throw.

The tension was high in the room—the silence entirely unnatural. He listened to her heartbeat racing—until it slowed to a natural rhythm. He thought she had calmed down. He was right—but also wrong.

* * * *

“Ilya gave this to me.” She tossed her personnel file at him. “Your dance was so fantastic—the investor gave this to us for free.”

She leaned against the desk, fingers clutching at the edge, hoping it would keep her steady. She looked at Alec, still hurt from her actions, still waiting for an explanation.

She didn’t know what to do anymore. She just didn’t want to keep failing at everything—at loving Alec, at loving herself—at finding any kind of redemption. Clearly it wasn’t for her.

So she told him everything she knew, so that she could leave with a clean slate. It would be easier that way.

* * * *

This was not the kind of calm Alec expected. Max gave him a detailed report of her meeting with Ilya—when she left him, when she arrived at the office, when she returned—everything. She even gave him the burner phone, just in case he wanted to go to the meet without her.

_What?_

More alarming, when did Max ever volunteer this much information?

* * * *

Max closed her eyes, reviewing all the facts, knowing that she shared everything. Then she opened her eyes knowing that there was nothing left to say.

In two easy strides, she was in front of the door, pulling it open.

Just as quickly, the door slammed shut.

* * * *

_Goddammit. Was Max leaving—again?_

He blurred to the door, ramming his entire body into it, forcing her to step back. Was her every solution to run away? Gritting his teeth, he picked up a very surprised Max and placed her far away from the door (and the window, for that matter).

She only looked at him, silent, her hands digging into her pockets.

Then he realized the one thing he forgot. He still had her ring—and he would remind her of their promises.

* * * *

Max didn’t fight him when he moved her away from the door. She didn’t have the energy for it.

So she waited, wondering what was left to say.

* * * *

“You promised to love me Max—even when I got stupid. Do you remember?”

Alec pulled her hands out of her pockets. He wasn’t surprised to find them clenched into fists. Then he brought both fists to his face, placing a kiss on each knuckle—first the right hand, then the left hand.

She was surprised enough to open her hands. He took her right hand, kissing the inside of her palm, before he let go. Then he took her left hand, his thumb sweeping over her bare fingers.

He turned over her hand, skimming her open palm, returning what never should have left.

“Am I still yours?”

* * * *

Max loved when Alec got like this—his touch slow but sure—his words serious and heartfelt. She loved his voice, so deep and rich—it reached every part of her soul.

When he kissed her hands, she fought hard not to tremble. When he finally let go, she stared at her open palm, seeing the titanium band, his love for her still strong.

It was too much. How could he still want her after everything? Max tried to tell him. But all she did was gasp—before she burst into tears.

It was not pretty. But she felt him pull her close, saying nothing, loving her anyway.

* * * *

Alec dropped his cheek on her head, holding her against him, feeling her sobs wracking her entire body. He closed his eyes, letting his own pain wash over him. He waited until her sobs subsided, until she was able to get her breathing under control. She shuddered once—before she wrapped her arms around him, leaning against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

He heard it then, her heartbeat too fast, before it slowed down, matching his. He kissed her hair, before he tightened his embrace. He heard her sniffling, and he thought about offering her a tissue.

Max wiped her nose on his shirt instead.

* * * *

Max felt Alec loosen his hold on her—before he stepped away. Confused, she stood still, wondering why he was looking around the room. Then she saw him open the drawer on the one end table.

She heard him sigh before he turned back to her. Slowly he took off his shirt and offered it to her.

“Can’t find any tissues.” That was all he said. But Max was distracted by a suddenly shirtless Alec. She took in the wide shoulders, the strong arms, the defined abdomen—her gaze lingered over his body. Before she could stop herself, she was already moving toward him, wanting to feel his skin.

But Alec stepped away, just out of reach. For the first time, he denied her.

* * * *

“You want me Max?” Alec kept his entire body still, hoping that Max didn’t try to touch him again. There was only so much a man could take. “I have conditions.”

He saw the disappointment in her eyes. He saw her nod, before she dropped her hand.

He studied her, seeing both hands clenched—and he reached for her left hand. Carefully, he pried it open, until they were both staring at the titanium band in her open palm.

“Wear the ring Max—because you love me just as much as I love you. Because we’re meant to be, no matter how hard this is.”

“Wear the ring—and touch me Max—because no one else knows how to make you feel the way I do.”

“Wear the ring—and know that you’re the only one for me.”

* * * *

Max could not breathe. He was breaking her all over again. She felt the pain of it, and all the blinking wasn’t going to stop the flood of tears. Because she had no energy left to fight him, she let all her fears out. She told him exactly what she was afraid was true.

“I don’t know how to love you without hurting you.”

* * * *

Just like that, Alec heard what he needed, Max no longer guarded—but vulnerable—and afraid. He took the ring and slowly slipped it on her finger. Then he told her something he took for granted—something she didn’t seem to understand.

“You are the only one that knows how to love me.” His voice was strong and sure. He took her hand, placing it on his chest, right above his heart. “I can take any pain, as long as you’re with me.”

* * * *

The tears wouldn’t stop. Max closed her eyes, knowing it wouldn’t matter, that the tears would come anyway. She knew that he was right, that she couldn’t keep making decisions for the both of them.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” She finally let out a ragged breath, the one she’d been holding. She knew he wouldn’t like her answer, but that was all she had. “What if something goes wrong?”

* * * *

“I want you when things go wrong.” Alec whispered. “I want you all the time.” He cupped her face with both hands, thumbs sweeping her tears away.

“Take me with you Max.” He dropped his forehead onto hers. “Don’t leave me behind. Let me love you no matter what happens.”

* * * *

Max shuddered, feeling his love encompass her entire being. She reached up, touching his face, surprised to find his cheeks wet with tears. She wiped his tears away, knowing that it wasn’t easy to love her.

“I’m sorry I left.” She whispered, fingers trailing over his mouth, before they settled behind his neck, touching his barcode.

All he said was—

“I’m sorry you don’t like doughnuts.” 

* * * *

Alec felt his doubts evaporate—he felt his soul settle—because the world was right once again.

He looked into her eyes, the deep brown full of love, and he knew that she wasn’t going anywhere without him. He cupped her cheek, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, sighing.

Then he gave up watching her, needing to taste her instead. He claimed that mouth of hers, the one that drove him crazy, the one that loved him like no one else could.

* * * *

Max lost herself to the kiss, the way his mouth ravaged hers, the way his hands first cupped her face—before wandering over her entire body. Then, when she thought he would start undressing her, he pulled away instead, and she heard his deep voice—

“So phenomenal fucking?” 

She watched him tilt his head, hooded eyes slowly traveling over every inch of her. She shivered in anticipation.

“That’s a lot to live up to.” She heard his amusement—but he sounded serious too.

Then, because she couldn’t wait anymore, she launched herself at him, wrapping her legs around him, knowing that he would catch her. She captured his face with both hands, before she rested her forehead on his. Then she dropped a kiss there, and onto his temple, then his cheek, trailing little kisses until she finally reached his ear and whispered—

“Don’t let me down.”

He didn’t.


	24. Boots

Chapter 23 – Boots

Alec woke when he heard a dull thud. Blinking uncertainly, he rolled over, feeling the bed for Max. When he realized it was empty, he sat up, watching a very animated Max cursing at her boots.

Smirking, he leaned back, arms crossed behind his head. He almost laughed when Max gave up and threw her boots across the room. They hit the wall, the wall with the oil painting of the San Francisco skyline. The poor painting quivered before sliding off the wall completely.

Shaking his head, Alec decided to end her tirade.

“Do I have to duct tape you to my side?”

* * * *

So now Alec was awake—and posing like a goddamn model on the bed. She was trying to avoid exactly this. She wanted to be dressed before he woke up.

She advanced on him, eyes narrowed in exasperation—

“Why’d you tie my boots together?”

* * * *

Alec blinked innocently. “Were you going somewhere? Without me?”

He thought she would stomp her feet and deny it. All she did was stare at him, frustrated about her boots—until her brown eyes darkened—and it turned into a different kind of frustration. Something that resembled desire.

He wasn’t expecting that at all.

* * * *

“I wanted to be fully dressed when I woke you up. I thought we could replace the box of doughnuts I broke yesterday.” Max unzipped her jacket slowly. 

“Then you tied my boots together. With all these fancy knots. Now I’ll have to cut my laces off.”

She watched him throw off the covers, suddenly excited for doughnuts. But she stopped him with a few simple words.

“You just forfeited all doughnuts pretty boy.”

* * * *

Alec froze, hearing her serious tone. Then he reviewed all her comments, finally focused on the part that made no sense to him.

“You don’t have to be fully dressed to talk to me.”

He frowned when his stomach grumbled in agreement.

“In fact—“ He got out of bed, ignoring a glaring Max. “All this phenomenal fucking requires sustenance!”

Before he could reach for his clothes, he got a face full of Max’s jacket. Startled, he pulled it off his head, staring at it. Before he could even question her, she threw her jeans at him, then her tank top. Soon the bra followed, then the panties. He caught everything automatically, watching her slowly strip, his gaze focused on a suddenly naked Max.

Then he couldn’t quite breathe—so much skin, all glorious and smooth—but he did hear her very solemn voice—

“Can you talk to me now Alec?”

* * * *

Max loved watching a stunned silent Alec. He opened his mouth to answer her—but nothing happened. She smiled then—and giving up on the idea of fresh doughnuts—she decided to succumb to the very real need of touching Alec, tasting him—and keeping him silent.

She pushed him down, both hands on his shoulders. He didn’t fight her. He just threw her clothes on the floor. She kissed his forehead—before rubbing her nose on his. She heard his sigh before he closed his eyes. She kissed his eyes too, before she started leaving small kisses on his cheek, on his neck, on his sternum. She continued the trail south, kissing down his chest, down that very firm abdomen of his.

Then, when she reached her goal, she blew just lightly, feeling him tremble, his hands already in her hair, holding her head still. She licked the smooth skin—and when she heard his moan, she took all of him in her mouth—

But not before she heard him stutter—

“I still want, still want—doughnuts Max.”

* * * *

Natalya walked into Ilya’s office, waiting when she caught him on the phone. He nodded at her, before he took a pen and wrote something down. Then he hung up and leaned back in his chair.

She didn’t know how to lead into it—so she just asked the one question most important to her.

“Did kotik bid you farewell then?”

She watched Ilya raise an eyebrow at her. “Were you not convinced they left town already?”

She only shrugged, careful not to give anything away. “May I speak freely?”

Ilya nodded, leaning forward. “Please.”

“Kotik is important to you, yes?” She watched Ilya nod again. “So why have her dance for special favors? You have never watched her dance.”

“In fact, you would do the favor anyway. I am sure of it.”

* * * *

Ilya studied Natalya. She was beautiful as always—but today, more lethal than usual. He could not explain it—only that she seemed ready to kill—but also determined to hide it.

He did not understand. She never tried to hide that part of herself—the one that exuded danger. She always celebrated her dark side. It was what made her so effective. Her reputation preceded her—and normally people just gave her exactly what she wanted without fighting her.

He wondered why she would ask about Max now. In all the years he’d known her—she was very careful not to mention Max at all.

Which only meant one thing.

She wanted Max.

Because he knew that she would never have Max, he’d come up with a ridiculous method for Max to announce her presence—the dance. 

It was true. He’d never even seen Max dance. He didn’t need to. 

The dance wasn’t for him.

* * * *

Natalya watched Ilya in silence. She hated when he got this quiet. It usually meant that he was thinking strategy—and she did not want that. She just wanted information. But before she could ask her next question, he said something she wasn’t expecting.

“I asked that price—so she could dance for you.”

* * * *

He watched her, saw the surprise in her blue eyes—then he saw it disappear just as quickly.

He waited, wondering if she had more questions, but all she did was nod—before she left his office.

It was an odd visit. She always had a purpose when she stepped into his office. Today he had no idea what that purpose could be.

* * * *

Natalya left the office, stunned by his admission. So he knew her feelings then. He would not volunteer information about Max.

He thought she wanted Max. Yesterday, he would have been right. 

Today he was wrong. Today she wanted her brother’s killer more.

* * * *

Alec heard the phone buzzing, and he knew that Max would reach for it. He heard her flip it open—only to sigh right after. Mostly though, he felt the sudden tension running through her body—and he hated that. 

She had been relaxed just moments ago, her head resting in the crook of his arm. He loved holding her like this, his chest touching her back, her body nestled into his, their legs tangled together. 

_They fit._

Not just physically, but in every sense of the word. Every time they were together—whether they were irritating each other—or fighting, or just loving each other—Alec felt alive. No one else made him feel that. 

Only Max could do that to him.

* * * *

Max stared at the burner phone in her hand. She read the short message, before she tossed it back on the nightstand. Then she dropped her head, closing her eyes, enjoying the feel of Alec’s body against hers.

She thought about getting up—but Alec seemed to have radar. His arms tightened around her, before he kissed the back of her neck.

“What is it Max?” She felt his hands wandering over her hips. “Is it time for doughnuts?”

She touched his hand, the one on her hip, the one getting too close—

_Dammit._

Her body was already responding, her legs welcoming him. He shifted just enough, so that he was over her, and she was under him. She had something to say, something important—

But he leaned down, his forehead resting on hers—before his mouth claimed hers, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip until she yielded. She felt his hands skim her body, moving slowly, until they rested at her hips.

He slammed hard into her. She gasped, her mind blank, unable to remember what she wanted to say.

Unable to remember anything, really.

* * * *

Alec wasn’t above using sex to get what he wanted. Right now, he didn’t care about the stupid phone. He didn’t want anyone to interrupt his time with Max. He wasn’t ready to leave their little world.

So he cupped her breast (it was right there), his thumb already rubbing her nipple. Then his hand trailed her side, gliding over her hip, skimming that smooth stomach, going lower still—until his hand was just hovering between her thighs.

He felt her hand then, her fingers lacing between his—and he kept going—touching her, knowing that she wouldn’t refuse him.

Then he moved his arm from under her, changing their positions, claiming her mouth, silencing her before she could speak. She kissed him back, gasping when he entered her—before her legs wrapped around him.

He thought he should feel bad, that he’d deliberately distracted her—

But he really didn’t.

* * * *

Natalya smiled grimly. It had cost much, but she’d been able to find the information she needed. She knew exactly which guards she could pay off. She knew that her own elite guard was enough to cover Max. She just needed a few in the room with her—a few expendables.

* * * *

Max finally managed to get dressed—minus her boots. She sat on the desk chair, studying the boots in front of her—unable to figure out the knots. It couldn’t be this hard, could it?

Then she heard his voice, his very calm voice—but she also heard the smirk he tried to hide—

“I can fix the laces. Just give me the boots.”

She looked up, ignoring his outstretched hand—and threw the boots against the window. For all she knew, he’d make it worse.

She watched him wince, before he got out of bed, pulling on his jeans, walking to the window. He picked up the boots, and his fingers flying fast, he had the knots unraveled in no time at all.

Then he kneeled in front of her, taking one foot, placing it gently in the boot—even though she had no socks on. He did the same for the other foot. He didn’t bother tying the laces. Instead he just bowed his head, his hands resting on his knees.

Max stared at him, at the top of his head, when she finally realized what Alec wasn’t saying.

He didn’t want to go to the meet. He wanted to leave San Francisco.

* * * *

Alec clenched his hands, knowing that it was matter of time before they left the motel room. Before they had to deal with the real world.

So he was surprised when he felt Max’s hands running through this hair, her fingers touching his scalp, massaging him. He closed his eyes, enjoying her touch, wishing they could stay like this forever.

He felt her skim his barcode—before she gently lifted his face, cupping his cheeks, her forehead leaning on his. Then she spoke, giving him exactly what he wanted without asking for it—

“I choose you Alec.” Just like before, when they made vows in front of the prison—she whispered words to make him shudder. “I am yours. You are mine.”

“I don’t care about folders—about any investor—about Ilya even. You’re more important than any of them combined.”

“We have everything we need to move our people. We have each other. We don’t need anything else.”

“Let’s go now. Take our bikes and leave this city for good.”

He opened his eyes, meeting her steady gaze, knowing the woman was looking deep into his soul again. He saw no regret in her eyes—only her fierce love for him.

Goddammit. He’d been prepared to fight her—to insist they leave immediately. But this? He didn’t know how to fight her when she gave without question.

He wanted to leave—but he never wanted to deny her. So he said nothing, instead taking her face in his hands—before he claimed her mouth, enjoying her taste, reveling in the love only she knew how to give.


	25. Shadows

Chapter 24 – Shadows

Alec watched Max pull up next to him, stopping the Ninja a few feet away from his Duke. Carefully he looked around the parking garage, seeing nothing, hearing nothing—except for the two of them. Max shut off the engine, before she swung her leg over the seat, setting the bike on its kickstand. Then she leaned over the seat, staring at it, like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

He waited until she turned around. He saw the wildness in her eyes, and he knew that she wanted to skip the meet. He gathered her close, the entire length of her body against his—and he heard her heartbeat racing.

He kissed her forehead, saying nothing, instead tugging at her, toward the old factory just a block away.

* * * *

Max did her best to remain calm. She couldn’t seem to convince Alec to walk away. It was just a folder, right? It might contain some sensitive information (ok, a lot)—but why would it matter now? 

And why was the phone buzzing? She flipped it open, reading the message, feeling a wave of uncertainty run through her. 

Why would the investor want to meet Alec alone?

Before she could overthink it, she squeezed Alec’s hand, forcing him to stop. When she gave him the phone, she thought he would finally agree with her and leave. 

He didn’t. He only glanced at the message, dismissing it completely.

“Doesn’t matter Max. Let’s do this.”

* * * *

Alec just wanted the meet over and done with. He wanted his folder—then he wanted to take Max and leave. He was done with San Francisco.

They stood in front of the abandoned Ghirardelli Chocolate Factory. Alec pulled at Max, heading for the main entrance. She took a step, before she paused, shaking her head at him. She pointed to the south side, indicating a separate entrance.

Whatever. He didn’t care which door they went through. He followed her without a word.

* * * *

Max picked the lock before she carefully pushed the heavy door open.

“Aren’t they expecting us?” She heard Alec whisper. “Why are we sneaking in?”

She looked at him, frowning. “Because Ilya’s not answering his phone. Something’s wrong Alec.”

“Unless you want to leave now?” Max turned to face him fully. “That’s my first choice Alec. Even if that investor turns out to be—“

But Alec cut her off, kissing her deeply, surprising her into silence. When he broke the kiss, all she heard was—

“I can handle it Max. Whatever’s inside, I can handle it.”

* * * *

Alec took point, even when Max tried to shove him out of the way. He ignored her, his hand already up in the air, asking for her silence.

He found himself in a hallway full of shadows, and just a few yards ahead of him, he saw the grand staircase. Before he could take a step in that direction, he felt Max’s hand on his shoulder.

“What wrong Max?” He turned around slowly, scanning the area. 

She only clutched at his shirt, her breathing coming in shallow—but still he heard her answer.

“Too many heartbeats Alec. Do you hear them?”

* * * *

Max watched his eyes widen in surprise.

“How many?” That was all he said.

“At least six upstairs. Maybe four more on this floor.” Max started tugging at Alec, going back the same way they came in. “We should go. Abort this mission.” 

Alec didn’t budge. Instead, he crossed his arms in front of him. “We can take a few more guards Max.” Then he extended one hand to Max, waiting for her calm down. “We’re already here—“

“That’s not it.” Max inhaled deeply, taking his hand, willing Alec to pay attention. “Something’s off.” Then she took both of his hands in hers. “Don’t you feel it?”

“I do. But I’ll be careful. Promise.” He only looked at her patiently, his thumb gently rubbing over her fingers.

“I’ll go with you.” Max gripped his hands tighter—wanting to shake him some sense into him. “We’re doing this together right?”

Alec pulled her close, cradling her face in his hands. “Let me handle this. Trust me ok?”

* * * *

Max could feel her chest tighten, the panic rising to choke her. She didn’t know how to explain the feeling of impending doom. She just knew that they could avoid it all if they left _now._

She really, really regretted her promise to listen to him. She should have made that promise _after_ they left San Francisco.

She trusted Alec—with her life, with everything she had.

But she didn’t trust anyone else.

Something bad was about to happen.

* * * *

Natalya watched the two of them on the monitor. They had come in from the south side, the one entrance that lacked audio. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she was an expert in body language. And right now, she could tell—

Max wanted to run.

She wanted to take her prize and leave.

Natalya touched the round beads around her neck—finding comfort in the old rosary that Mischa had given her so long ago. It was the first gift he’d given her, something she cherished even more than the expensive jeweled knife.

Methodically, her fingers ran over each bead—until she got to the crucifix. She lingered there, her hand closing over it, the sharp edges digging into her palm—the pain reminding her that she would have no more chances after this. She had spent all she had to lure them here. She had paid off enough guards so that even Ilya didn’t know.

When Max turned toward the exit, about to take him away from her, Natalya saw the injustice of it all. She would have walked out then, just to confront them both, just to pull the trigger. 

She kissed the crucifix then, ready to sacrifice her life, knowing it would be her last stand. But the Blessed Mother was looking out for her. She sent Max away—and she sent him to her instead.

* * * *

Max took a deep breath, counting her steps, turning the corner cautiously. She saw Ilya leaning against the wall, talking to a man she hadn’t seen in over a year. She remembered the suspicious car crash. They had never found his body—and she knew, he was an expert in surviving. 

_What was he doing here after all this time?_

She stood still, the shadows protecting her, watching Ilya make small talk. All she had to do was take one small step forward, make her presence known.

Except that she wanted to do exactly the opposite. 

She wanted to take that step backward, find Alec, and get the hell out of San Francisco.

* * * *

“There you are rybka.” Ilya saw her standing alone, and before he could ask the obvious question, someone else did.

“Where’s Alec?” 

He turned to the mystery investor, curious—wondering at his relationship with Max. He studied the man, his lean frame bordering on haggard, his cheeks sunken in. Then he looked to Max, who seemed frozen to the spot. He thought he saw panic cross her face—but he must have been mistaken.

Or not. Because Max just clenched her fist.

* * * *

“Deck.” Max hissed out slowly. “You’re not dead.”

He shook his head, walking toward her, holding out a folder. “I was hoping that you would bring Alec. I saved this for him.”

“He’s—“ and before she could continue, she heard something, something above her. She froze, knowing that someone was watching her from above high.

Then she turned to Ilya, her voice quiet, her entire body radiating fury. “How many snipers do you have on me?”

She saw the surprise in his eyes—and even the hurt—before the look passed. 

“I have no need for that.” That was all he said. He didn’t try to convince her. She heard the sincerity in his voice—but more, she heard truth.

So why the audience? Too many people were up there, clearly at an advantage, waiting for her to make a move.

So she did.

She took that step, out of the shadows, into the open space she was avoiding.

* * * *

Max knew it made no sense—but she could practically feel those red dot sights on her back. She turned around, facing the loft this time, knowing she had to be faster than the snipers.

She was. She counted exactly six red dots before they disappeared. She stood still, knowing that Alec was up there somewhere, trapped.

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to make it worse for him.

So she kept still, hoping it was the right decision.

* * * *

Ilya froze when he saw shadows move. It was quick, and anyone would have missed it—except he was staring directly into the dark loft.

So she was right. For some reason, snipers were right above her.

He looked around the small room, wondering about Natalya’s absence. She should have been here already.

It was unusual, but more perplexing. She was dependable. She was available—always. So today was an anomaly. He would have sent her to the loft, just to check the suspicious activity.

No, she would have already done that. She would have secured the whole area for him. She was efficient that way.

Today was more than a lapse. Today was a betrayal.

* * * *

“We have a blood oath.” Max turned slowly to Ilya, brown eyes blazing into his pale blue eyes. “Release him now.”

But Ilya said nothing, his gaze focused on the loft above. Then she heard his words—and everything in her nearly shattered.

“I do not have him, rybka. Natalya does. She has betrayed us all.”

* * * *

Lydecker watched the exchange between the Russian mob boss and Max. It was the least likely relationship he could have imagined. He shook his head, realizing that he’d just missed Max all those years ago, when he’d been in San Francisco.

Max was feeling betrayed, he could tell. She was about to lose her temper too. Except something was holding her back, something important.

He smiled slowly. Yes, of course, it was Alec. He’d never believed in the breeding program, but apparently Renfro understood their chemistry better than he ever did. So instead of making a rash decision, Max was considering her options.

His kid was growing up.

* * * *

“They should have shot me by now.” Max kept her voice neutral, staring at Ilya. “That means that Alec made a deal.”

“Where does Natalya run to, someplace no one knows about?” She stared at him, watching him stiffen in surprise. “Tell me.”

“I tell you, and she kills me.” Ilya met her gaze without flinching.

“You don’t tell me, and I kill you.” Max smiled slowly. “Choose your death Ilya.”

* * * *

Lydecker had designed Max with a protective instinct. It was even more powerful than her survival instinct. She had no trouble killing when it suited her—something she failed to recognize in herself. It was fascinating, watching her casually threaten a man that most would fear.

Except it wasn’t a threat. It was very much a fact. Max could kill them all before they took even one step toward her. She was that fast—and that smart.

People usually got distracted with her looks. They thought that no one with that kind of beauty could harm anyone.

How wrong they were. That was exactly why she was so dangerous.

* * * *

Max was at the end of her rope. Before she could blur to the loft, Lydecker spoke, asking just one question—

“Why would she want Alec?” 

Max blinked, not knowing the answer. Then she turned to Ilya, the man who understood Natalya better than anyone else.

Ilya only frowned, shaking his head. “I do not know. She has always been reliable—exceptional really. The only time she ever fell apart was when her brother died some time ago.”

Max felt something stir inside of her—that she would not like the answer to her question. But she asked it anyway.

“How did her brother die?”

“It was tragic. Someone hunted him, mutilated him, stole his teeth.” Ilya shuddered. “It was not a clean death.”

* * * *

Lydecker stepped forward, watching Max stagger unexpectedly. He pulled her into safety, away from the open space, back into the shadows.

“It’s not your fault Max. Ben was broken.”


	26. Reason

Chapter 25 – Reason

Lydecker watched Max blur out of the factory—and out of his life for good.

They hadn’t spent much time together, but it was enough that he saw her. Then, when he would have turned away, when he would have walked out the door, he heard a few simple words to stop him in his tracks.

“You are the reason.”

* * * *

Ilya had watched the man called Deck pull Max out of the open space. He watched the man support her weight, when she seemed unsteady. He watched Max shake her head, whispering words he could not hear.

He watched the man try and comfort her.

He watched the man fail.

* * * *

Lydecker should have ignored him. He should have walked out of the building. But he heard something in those words. Something that sounded like accusation.

“The reason for what?” He kept his voice neutral, wanting to know exactly the stakes at hand.

He wasn’t sure what he thought the Russian mob boss would say. He only knew that nothing he said would surprise him.

He was wrong.

* * * *

“You’re the reason she seeks redemption.” Ilya kept his voice even, watching the man across from him _not_ react.

“She goes out of her way not to kill.” He had to admire how still the man was. He would give nothing away.

“She is fast and dangerous.” He leaned into the man’s space, knowing it would make him uncomfortable. “You made her that way.”

Then taking a wild guess—and because he enjoyed a good gamble—he said something to make the man twitch.

“She is your favorite.”

Then he smiled when the man clenched his fist—before releasing it.

What was that ridiculous American term? It was—

_Bingo._

* * * *

Lydecker felt a surge of anger go through him. He knew that the Russian was just fishing, but damn, he was good.

Then he smiled—because he knew something with certainty. He had nothing to lose, so he decided to speak his mind.

Maybe he wanted to watch the smug Russian squirm too.

“I don’t understand how Max even tolerates you.” He saw a flicker of surprise. The Russian wasn’t expecting that. Then he decided to provoke the Russian even more.

“You are everything she hates.” Lydecker let his gaze sweep over the man, making it clear that nothing he saw impressed him.

“She should have killed you already.”

* * * *

Ilya surprised them both by laughing out loud.

“Sadly, I have to agree. She should have killed me.” He smiled—until he felt it fade away.

“Except she did not.” He stared at the man, knowing that he had been her handler. “Was it because she killed for you too many times?”

* * * *

Begrudgingly, Lydecker had to admit the Russian was astute.

He had trained Max to kill—and she knew how to take life efficiently and without remorse. He always thought he’d wiped out the idea of remorse, but his kids were the first batch. They were a sensitive bunch.

He regretted shooting Eva in front of all of them. But he did what he had to do. He only wanted his soldiers to see the truth of the situation.

They needed him.

But they left him anyway.

* * * *

Ilya watched the man consider what to say next. Whatever it was, he knew it would be a lie. So he changed tactics.

“Is she ok?” Ilya allowed concern to seep into his voice. “Why would the mention of Natalya’s brother upset her?”

He watched the man stiffen, weighing his options, deciding on his words.

He wasn’t expecting the truth. 

He got it anyway.

* * * *

Lydecker studied the man in front of him. Clearly Max had seen something in him that he did not. All he saw was a ruthless businessman—someone who had no trouble using people as needed.

He decided to tell him the truth, some of it anyway. He wasn’t going to explain Manticore—but he could give him Ben.

“If your Natalya has taken Alec, then she believes him to be someone he’s not. When Max escaped, she wasn’t the only one. Ben got out too. But Ben wasn’t like Max. He could not adapt to the outside world.”

He shook his head, remembering each gruesome murder, knowing it was Ben—struggling to find his way. He would show up, collecting the body, hating that he was too late. Ben had escaped him every time. He also left a mess in his wake. Bodies that he had to cover up. Police departments he had to pay off. 

But he had missed the last stop in Seattle. He’d been horrified when he’d found Ben’s broken body in the wilderness. He forgot to send a cleaner, someone to scrub the computers and shred any documents.

He forgot—and Ben was still haunting them all from his grave.

* * * *

Ilya listened carefully, hearing everything, knowing that he was getting the edited version. Not that it mattered. He could fill in the blanks.

“If Ben is the killer, then why would Natalya take—“

He didn’t get a chance to finish the question.

Instead, he stared at a photo in the man’s hand.

* * * *

“This is Ben.” Lydecker held the photo out. Then he took out a mug shot of Alec, the one taken at a Seattle jail over a year ago.

“Do you see the problem?” He studied the Russian, seeing the confusion, wondering if he would have to spell it out.

“They are twins.” He just said it. He had no more patience. “Identical. Alec was working for me while Ben was out killing.” He didn’t bother explaining that Alec was actually killing too—just with Manticore’s agenda in mind.

“Natalya has the wrong brother.”

* * * *

Ilya knew that Alec was a killer. He’d felt it the first time they’d met.

“Alec knows death. He could have easily killed Natalya’s brother—“

The man cut him off with a simple question.

“Do you think Alec needs teeth as a souvenir?”

* * * *

Lydecker watched him blink in surprise.

“Alec is a killing machine. He does not waste bullets. He has marked every target before he’s even pulled the trigger.”

Lydecker smiled, going on a hunch, that the Russian wanted Alec for personal reasons. “You got him on stage for a dance. And did you blame me for it?”

He watched the Russian stiffen, then pretend it never happened.

“He’s not as emotional as Max. He doesn’t have her short temper. But he’s efficient. And if Natalya’s got him, then she’s as good as dead. He will take her out.”

* * * *

Ilya watched the man calmly state the facts—almost like he was boasting. He narrowed his eyes, thinking that he missed one critical fact.

“It is too bad you think Natalya so stupid.” He sighed. “Because she is not.”

“Rybka accused me of snipers, do you remember?” The man only glared at him. “If I did not put snipers on her, then Natalya did.” 

“If anything, Natalya found his weakness, and that is Max.” Ilya shook his head. “He cannot do anything if he feels Max is threatened.”

But the man knew something he did not.

He smiled—and it was not friendly.

* * * *

“Max is not here.” Lydecker took the photo and the mug shot back.

“She will find him.” He slid them back into a folder. Then he pulled out a different photo, curious if the Russian understood just how dangerous Max was.

“She did this.” Carefully he placed the photo on a nearby desk. Then he pulled out other photos, each with a different angle.

“Ben was stronger than her.” Lydecker tapped his finger on particular image, the one that showed Ben with a peaceful look, his eyes closed—except that his neck was at an odd angle. “Still, somehow she overpowered him.”

He watched the Russian recoil at the image of Ben and his broken neck. He almost smiled then. It was bittersweet really. That the only one able to defeat Ben had been Max herself. She had loved Ben, and deeply too.

“It will not be pretty.” He stacked the photos neatly, before sliding them into a separate folder. “Max is more emotional than Alec. She will punish Natalya—and anyone that she perceives a threat.”

“She may not like killing—but she excels at it.” Lydecker met the Russian’s gaze one last time. “She may seek redemption, but she won’t find it.”

“She’s too good at this.” Lydecker nodded before he turned away.

“I trained her myself.”

“Natalya is dead.”


	27. Caged

Chapter 26 – Caged

Alec walked into an ambush. Natalya stood in the middle of the room, two guards flanking her. He systematically took down the guards, his movements quick, each bullet a kill shot.

He walked right up to her, pressing his gun into her forehead, his finger on the trigger, meeting her cold stare with his own. When she smiled, he knew that he had missed something. She waited for him to lower the gun before she spoke.

“Aleksei, you came. Thank you. I did not know if I could separate you two.” Then she gestured to a monitor behind her.

He stared, feeling the blood leave his face. 

_Goddammit. Was that Max—surrounded by snipers above her?_

* * * *

“It would be a shame for anything to happen to her.” Natalya was leaning against the wall, right next to the monitor, with prime view of his face. She had so enjoyed watching him go pale with shock. 

“She is your weakness, yes?” Then she slinked toward him, and just like the first time, she walked around him, her gaze sweeping up and down, thoroughly assessing him. But this time, she touched him, fingers skimming his face before trailing down his chest, and going even lower. She would have kept going, except that his hand stopped her, the strength in his grip surprising her, even exciting her.

* * * *

“You don’t want me.” Alec was about to go ballistic. No one except Max touched him like this—and Natalya touching him was just all kinds of wrong.

“Oh Aleksei. I do want you.” Natalya practically purred. “I want you dead.”

* * * *

“I could just kill you now.” Alec raised an eyebrow, already shoving her against the wall. It was satisfying to see her wince in pain. It would be even more satisfying to watch her die. 

His hand closed over her throat, and not that he was expecting her to plead for her life—cold-blooded killers tended to have more ego that that. He just sure as hell wasn’t expecting her reaction.

Her laugh sent a chill down his spine.

* * * *

“Of course.” This time Natalya raised an eyebrow at him. “But do you want her to die?”

He did not respond. Except for the thinning of his lips, he seemed rather stoic. Perhaps he was just pretty to look at—but not too smart. Which meant that Natalya would have to explain slowly.

“My snipers are waiting for my call. Either I confirm the shot—and our beloved kotik dies. Or I cancel the shot—and she lives.” She smirked at him. “But you die.”

“But if I do not call? Then we all die. They kill her. You kill me.” She kept her voice even, curious if he understood. “My team finds my body. They kill you.” 

“But maybe you escape Aleksei.” Natalya shrugged carelessly. “I hate this idea, but it offers one small consolation.”

“I have killed your love, just like you killed mine.” She sneered at him, wanting him to lose that arrogance of his. “You killed my brother, and I will kill your woman.”

“My life does not matter.” He said nothing, except that his fingers tightened on her throat. “But you will suffer.”

“Any choice you make, you will suffer.” It was getting harder to speak. But she could tell, he was starting to waver.

“All you have to decide is her fate.” The pain in her throat was nothing. She waited too long for her revenge. 

“Does Max live or die today?”

* * * *

“Max lives.” Alec released his hold and watched her crumple to the ground. She was gasping, trying to regulate her breath.

“Call them off now.” He fought every impulse not to finish the job, not to kill her on the spot.

“If you are lying—if you kill her in front of me right now—“ Alec tried to rein in his fury, his brain working overtime, trying to come up with solutions.

His gaze swept the room, landing on the desk, seeing a mug shot of his face. It was on a wanted poster from Seattle. He remembered when he’d been arrested for Ben’s killing spree. They had him dead to rights. His DNA and fingerprints had matched exactly.

He inhaled sharply, finally understanding, knowing she believed him her brother’s killer. He knew nothing could save him—not even the truth. So he embraced the lie, knowing that he had to buy Max enough time to escape.

* * * *

Her throat was on fire. She couldn’t even swallow without her eyes watering from the pain. But she felt the sudden silence, and she forced herself to look at him.

She saw him staring at her desk, at the open case file, at his mug shot right on top. Then she smiled, and she knew that his slow brain had finally caught on.

She waited for him to deny it. To claim that someone else killed her brother.

He didn’t even try.

* * * *

He looked at the screen, counting six snipers aimed at Max. Something in him broke then, that he wouldn’t get to see her after this.

_So be it._

He focused his attention on Natalya. If he was going down, then he would take her down as well. He would enjoy it too.

“I will teach you what suffering means.” Then he smiled at her, clear green eyes promising retribution. “You’ll be my prisoner—and every day, I will tell you a little truth, a little lie.” He watched her, still struggling for breath, when he decided to twist the knife. “His teeth, they were the first set for my collection—“

He paused deliberately, waiting for the reaction, knowing it would set her off. He saw the confusion in her eyes—before the horror of his words sank in. He smiled then, just because he could, just because it made him feel good.

“He cried like a baby.” Alec laughed when she lunged at him, her blue eyes full of rage. He sidestepped easily, watching her land in a messy heap. Her normally perfect bun was no more.

“Call them off.” His voice was flat. “And you can have me.”

Then he watched her slowly stand up, brushing at her pants, smoothing any wrinkles. She tucked some stray hair behind her ears, then met his steady gaze with her own. Blue eyes clashed with green ones. Hers full of fire and righteousness. His full of tempered violence.

He watched her pull out a small radio, spitting out Russian commands, her back to him. He watched the monitor carefully, saw the snipers raise their weapons as one—and withdraw from the scene.

Max was still standing in the open (like an idiot), but at least the immediate danger of bullets disappeared.

The door burst open—her team of snipers filing in, red dots already trained on his chest. He was tempted to fight, but he raised his hands instead, counting weapons he could use for later.

He knew Natalya was coming for him, her fists fast and strong, connecting with his jaw. He allowed himself to stagger, letting her think she had won. He took the next few blows to his body—letting the pain sink in and spread out.

The physical pain was nothing. 

For as much as he hated her beating on him, he hated that Max would know it.

* * * *

“I want to kill you now.” Natalya watched Alec stumble backwards, satisfied that she’d made her point. “But you cost me money, too much. So many guards to pay off, just to make this happen.”

She walked up to him, unafraid, her hand cupping his cheek, her thumb sweeping over his mouth—almost like a lover’s caress. She laughed when he spit at her, those green eyes of his flashing in disgust.

Good, he still had some fight left in him.

It would serve him well.

* * * *

_What the hell?_

Not that Alec was expecting a fair fight, but touching his face was not part of the deal. He agreed that she could kill him—not torture him with friendly petting. That was just sick.

But now she was stepping back, and yet again, walking around him, like she had nothing better to do. His jaw hurt, and maybe it would bruise—and she might have broken his kidneys and his liver, what with all those body blows—but otherwise, he was doing well.

Which surprised him actually. He should have been dead already.

A movement across the room caught his attention. One of the guards slammed a drawer shut before walking toward him.

He watched Natalya take a slim case from him, and when she opened it, he forced himself not to flinch.

_Goddammit. Not that._

* * * *

Natalya took the syringe out of the case, smiling slowly, squirting just a little from the tip. She watched Alec stiffen in surprise. She nodded to her guards, so they could keep him still, so she could inject him without problem. She took his arm, humming, gently massaging the spot she wanted.

He said nothing when the needle pierced his skin, only hissing at her, his eyes narrowed in outrage.

She patted his cheek, watching him fight for consciousness. “When you wake up, you’ll know what to do. I hear you’re a champion.”

* * * *

Alec felt the drug taking over his entire body. He was pissed. Instead of Natalya just killing him outright, now she was playing with him. What the hell for? He was already at her mercy.

He felt his vision go blurry—before the room started spinning slowly. He closed his eyes, thinking that would make it better. It didn’t. He lost his balance instead, reaching out to a wall not even close to him.

Then, realizing he wasn’t going to win against gravity, Alec gave up his silence—swearing up a storm—all in Russian of course—before the world went black for him.

It was too bad that he passed out then. He would have been surprised that one of the guards caught him.

* * * *

“Change him.” Natalya tossed a pair of black shorts at the guard holding Alec. “That’s all he needs.”

She turned to the guard by the door. “Go collect our friend and meet us there.”

Then because she could, Natalya bent over the inert form of Alec, studying him. Even unconscious, his beauty was undeniable. The symmetry of his features, the high cheekbones, and that mouth—yes, she could understand why anyone found him desirable.

“Today is the last day of your beauty. No one will want you after this.”

* * * *

Alec found himself lying on a cold stone floor. If that wasn’t bad enough—the smell was awful. It was like he drowned in a vat of body odor and smelly feet. Carefully, he opened his eyes, seeing spots, realizing that his vision wasn’t quite right. He guessed the drug hadn’t worn off yet.

He pushed himself up, leaning against the nearest thing—which turned out to be a long bench. He blinked, slowly scanning the room. It looked like a locker room. Hell, it smelled like a locker room.

He heard people yelling and cheering. Words he never thought to hear again—

_Monty Cora._

* * * *

Natalya strode into the locker room, whistling. Then she clapped her hands, rubbing her hands in anticipation. It was the most excited she’d been in a long time.

Today she wasn’t going to wallow in her misery. She was going to celebrate her victory. Today her brother’s killer would suffer—and she would enjoy the spectacle of it all.

But first, she had to prepare her captive fighter.

* * * *

“Did you change me?” Alec asked in disbelief. He stared at Natalya, hoping that he was wrong.

He watched her smirk, those pale blue eyes simmering with something like glee. That was definitely a bad sign. 

Then she shuddered, and that was a good sign. 

He knew then that someone else had undressed him. It was a small thing, but he really hated the idea of Natalya even touching him.

He followed her into the dim hallway, the noise getting louder, the crowd getting closer. He heard the chanting, and he saw the massive chain link walls.

It was exactly as he feared.

* * * *

Natalya enjoyed his discomfort immensely. It was a large crowd tonight, the people especially boisterous, hungering for blood. She watched him take in the open space, the old warehouse perfect to house the brutal sport.

She spoke then, just in case he thought it would be easy.

“Look up. Do you see her?” She enjoyed his confusion, even as it turned to recognition.

“You lose a fight, she dies.” She patted his cheek. “You understand?"

Then she stabbed another needle into him, this time into his neck. She watched him stagger in surprise, his hand automatically covering his neck—except that it was too late. Natalya had quick reflexes. She injected her special cocktail of drugs, one that induced hallucinations, affected his vision, increased his heart rate, slowed his reflexes—and just impaired judgment overall.

It was deadly combination—and she was proud of it.

* * * *

Was that the waitress from the diner?

Alec stared at her, wondering at her presence, forgetting that he had a known killer right behind him. The sting startled him, but the effects were fast.

_Goddammit. He hated needles._

Then he heard her smug voice.

“Win all your fights Aleksei. Or she’s dead.”

He vaguely thought, why not let her die? He didn’t know her. But Max did, and she would never forgive him if anything happened to her.

So he had to fight then. Even when he just wanted to lie down and rest. His body was still sore from the earlier beating. Now he had to deal with whatever the hell Natalya just injected into him.

He heard the door slam behind him.

He was caged in.

Monty Cora was back to defend his title.


	28. Victory

Chapter 27 – Victory

Max believed in redundant systems. She knew that Alec had a tendency to disappear (usually against his will)—so she had placed multiple trackers on him. His bike had one, his phone, and his jeans.

The bike was accounted for. It had never left the parking garage. The other two trackers though—

They transmitted from the same location. 

She scanned the back of the building, counting the empty parking spots. It was abandoned, which surprised her. There should have been at least one vehicle.

Then she heard it, an engine starting and tires squealing. Blurring to the front of the building, she saw a black van leaving. Every instinct in her said that Alec was in that van. Before she moved, she heard the beeping, the trackers reminding her to check the building. Torn, she memorized the license plate instead, swallowing that bit of panic, that she would lose him if she made the wrong decision.

She blurred inside, the eerie silence surrounding her, the building devoid of life. The tracking signal was strong, and she followed it, finding herself in the basement.

When she opened that door, she smelled his blood, saw it splattered on the floor, on the walls, everywhere. If that wasn’t bad enough, she saw his discarded clothes—and she knew that both trackers were buried there.

Furious with herself, she blurred outside, finding her bike, wondering if she was close enough to catch his trail again.

She had to be. She was so tired of people taking Alec away from her.

* * * *

Alec wasn’t prepared for the first fight. His opponent had come out swinging, his massive fist connecting with his face. Then he had stepped back, raising his hands in victory, the crowd cheering him on.

Alec stumbled backwards, the effects of the drug wreaking havoc with his system. His heart was about to explode out of his chest—and why was he seeing two of the same guy? He shook his head, slowing his heartbeat, slowing his breath. Then he focused on the big oaf in front of him, the guy about to deck him once again—and finally he saw beyond the drugs.

The guy was nearly seven feet tall, a colossal bully, ready to clobber him into the ground. He had at least 100 pounds on Alec. He also had enough ego to think it an easy fight.

Alec spit out some blood, wiggling his jaw for good measure. He waited for the big oaf to come at him. He bent his knees, locking his core, finding his balance. Then he cracked his neck, first left, then right—before raising his arms, fists ready, his guard high. He cleared his mind, forgetting the waitress, forgetting Natalya, forgetting even Max.

He didn’t trust his body, not yet, so he kept still, knowing his opponent would become impatient. He yawned then, showing his boredom, even winking at the guy. That was enough. He came charging at Alec.

Alec pushed off his back foot, just a small step, rotating his shoulder, gathering the power needed for one strong jab. His aim was true. The big oaf grunted in surprise, staggering backwards, before he hit the fence and slid down.

The bell rang, indicating his victory—but Alec felt nothing. He only knew that he was tired of being an easy target. If he had to be in this cage, then he would win his way.

No one else was touching his face.

* * * *

Natalya was disappointed that the match had ended so quickly. The opponent did manage one good hit though. That wasn’t nearly enough, but there was still time for other fighters to destroy his face.

She watched him lean against the chain link fence, taking a break before the next fight. She saw him grab a small water bottle, drinking deeply, before he poured the rest over his face. She saw him wince—and that made her smile. He didn’t realize that he had an open cut on his cheek.

By the night’s end, he would have more wounds, his beauty damaged beyond recognition. It would be spectacular.

In the meantime, she would enjoy the show, knowing that the hallucinations would start soon. She had designed the drug with staggered effects. The next fight would prove entertaining.

She stood still, waiting for him to make eye contact. When he finally did, she clapped for him, before giving him a mock salute.

He flipped her off.

That only made her smile.

* * * *

The next fight wasn’t so easy, not that he expected it to be. But he could feel some of his strength returning, his breathing wasn’t so labored, and his heartbeat was steady. He still felt sluggish, but he knew that his immune system had filtered out most of the drug. 

He studied the new opponent in the ring. He was jumping up and down, swinging his beefy arms, even bigger (and uglier) than the first guy.

He was ready when the guy charged him. He wasn’t ready when the guy suddenly morphed in Max.

_What the fuck?_

* * * *

Natalya knew the moment when the hallucinogen kicked in. He had been about to knock the guy senseless. Instead of following through on his punch, he hesitated, sidestepping his opponent.

He kept shaking his head, following the perimeter of the cage, ducking blows from his opponent.

She wondered who he thought was attacking him?

Not that it mattered. Soon he would tire, and the massive brute would finally land a punch—and break his pretty face in half.

* * * *

Alec could not understand why Max was in the cage with him, throwing some really awkward punches. Her technique was off, like she’d never had any Manticore training. He got out of the way when her right hook missed. He expected her famous elbow strike, but it never happened.

Frowning, he watched her shuffling feet, her dropped guard, her lazy kicks. She wasn’t this terrible. And dammit, even when she was sweating, she didn’t smell this bad either. He inhaled deeply, nearly choking on the strong odor, finally realizing what was wrong.

If he had any doubts, Max actually scratched her crotch before spitting to the side. 

_Time to commit._

Hoping that he’d made the right decision, he waited for his moment, throwing quick jabs, followed by an uppercut.

He watched Max stumble backwards, but not fall. Then, knowing the power of his punches, knowing that he had hit hard enough—

Alec placed a finger on Max, pushing gently at her shoulder, watching her fall without protest. He stood over her, ignoring the panic, hating the sight of Max on the ground, hair fanned out, blood oozing from her mouth.

_Did he just mess up?_

He loved Max. His chest tight, he waited, seeing only her, seeing her unconscious and hurt. He almost kneeled down then, just to shake her awake, just to apologize.

He blinked a few times, willing his eyeballs to come correct. He heard the referee start the countdown—so he counted too. By the time he called the fight, Max had finally disappeared—to be replaced by the original ugly brute.

_Goddammit. That was a close one._

* * * *

Natalya frowned at his victory, disappointed that his face was still intact. It wasn’t fair really. She had paid good money for someone to break his face. If he kept winning his fights (without his opponents touching him), then she would not be happy.

She crossed her arms over her chest, calculating her next move. She didn’t expect him to die in any of the cage fights. She only expected that he would be _mostly_ dead.

But at this rate, the bastard was slowly outwitting her, outlasting her drug. She couldn’t go down there to inject him again. She knew that he would win his fights, despite everything she’d done to weaken him.

After all this effort, she still had to take him back to the basement—and finish the job herself.

She smiled in anticipation.

* * * *

Alec lost track of how many fights he’d won. He lost track of how many times Max attacked him in the ring. He couldn’t understand why Natalya didn’t show up to fight. Why was it always Max?

He was thinking of her, that’s why. He needed to know that she got away clean. But first Natalya wanted to play with him—making him waste energy fighting oversized monkeys who sometimes looked like Max.

He heard the bell ring, and he waited for the next opponent.

There was none. 

The referee grabbed his arm, raising it high, indicating his final victory.

He listened to the whistles and the cheers.

“Monty Cora, Monty Cora!”

The bloodthirsty crowd started stomping feet, waving their cash in the air.

It wasn’t enough. They wanted more.

* * * *

Max hated cage fighting. She hadn’t spotted the black van outside, and she’d almost left. Then she heard the chanting, and only one person was dumb enough to use Monty Cora as a stage name.

She shoved people out of her way, ignoring the insults and dirty looks. When she finally reached the chain link walls, she scanned the crowd, looking for Natalya. She was high in the loft, surrounded by her guards, not even watching the main event.

Clutching at the cage wall, fingers going through the chain link fence, Max tried to get Alec’s attention. He was busy staring at Natalya though. When she thought she’d have to jump the fence just to rescue him, he finally looked her way.

_Did he just scowl at her?_

* * * *

Goddammit. Would it never end? Why was Max _outside_ of the cage now? Hadn’t she tortured him enough while he’d been fighting?

Yanking his arm from the referee, he stalked to the edge of the octagon ring, walking right up to her. Because he had nothing to lose—and because he was so damn tired—he said the first words that made sense to him.

“Fuck off.”

* * * *

Max recoiled at the venom in his voice. This was the worse reunion ever. She knew that Alec had a temper, but not like this. He might make fun of her—but he loved her. 

_Didn’t he?_

Her first reaction was to return the sentiment, to curse at him until his ears bled out. She had her own temper, and she wasn’t afraid to strike back. If anything, she usually enjoyed it.

Then she bit the inside of her cheek, just to stop the words, just to give herself time to think. As much as she was relieved to find Alec, something was off about him. His usual cockiness was missing—his eyes were bloodshot—and his hands were trembling.

What was wrong with him?

* * * *

He didn’t expect the silence. Even if it wasn’t Max in front of him, he usually got some kind of response. The same rude comments typically came back at him.

Max only stared at him, like he was an experiment gone wrong—which he was actually. That only made him snicker.

He stepped back, restless, not wanting to talk to her, just wanting this day to be over. Before he could move, he heard her voice—and his entire being stilled.

* * * *

“I’m here to rescue you, dumbass.” Max wrinkled her nose in annoyance. “Can you jump the fence? It’s about 10 feet high.”

Then she waited, seeing his confusion, feeling his hesitation.

“Let’s go. Before Natalya sees us.” Max shook the chain link fence in front of her, making just enough noise, needing him to snap out of his sudden coma.

All he did was shake his head.

* * * *

This was new. Why was Max trying to rescue him? 

“You normally cuss at me.” Alec eyed her with suspicion. “Before you try to kill me.”

She looked like she wanted to throttle him. That seemed familiar to him, but he didn’t trust his senses.

Either way, he wanted her to be real, to not be another stupid hallucination. So he leaned in, making sure his entire body blocked Natalya from seeing Max—before whispering something only Max would understand.

“What day is it?”

* * * *

“It’s Tuesday you moron.” Max nearly went cross-eyed. Then she shook the fence again, this time uncaring that people were staring at them. “I love you. That’s why I’m trying to get you out of this cage. Now move it.”

She expected him to back up before he took a running leap. Instead he leaned his forehead on the chain link fence, right on her fingers, resting there. She blinked in surprise. Was he too tired to move?

Resolving to break into the cage herself, Max gave up trying to reason with Alec. Clearly, he had a concussion from fighting. His brain was wasn't working.

Before she could make her move, his next words stopped her.

_Why was he talking about coffee?_

* * * *

“Can’t go anywhere Maxie.” Alec inhaled deeply, smiling with content, when realized that this Max smelled just right, a heady mix of cherry and vanilla—and something else he never could name.

“Pyscho bitch has your favorite waitress. I had to win all my fights too. I knew you would kill me if anything happened to her.” He rubbed his nose on her knuckles, what he could reach anyway. The chain link was all over the place.

Then he watched her tip-toe and try to look around him. He blocked her view. “Don’t let her see you.”

Then he frowned, when he realized that he shouldn’t even be having this conversation with her.

“Why are you here? I let her have me so you could escape.”

* * * *

His words frightened her, the reality of it slapping her in the face. He only ever got caught when it involved her. She hated that—his readiness to sacrifice his life for her. Except she knew she was guilty of the same thing.

She would give up her life so that Alec could live another day.

Max closed her eyes, hating that Alec would go back to Natalya. She opened her eyes, knowing what she had to do next. With a heavy heart, she took out a small object and slipped it over his ring finger.

* * * *

Alec stared at the new ring on his finger, nestled just above the titanium band. It was wider and heavier … and just ugly. He thought Max had more taste than this. Still, he studied the ring, wondering, wondering—until it all became clear.

Then, despite the dire situation, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“I accept.” Alec kept his voice low. “I will tell the kids you proposed right after I won all my cage fights.”

* * * *

“It’s not a proposal you idiot!” Max hissed in disbelief.

“But we’re in San Francisco.” Alec sounded bewildered.

“It’s not the Golden Gate Bridge, is it?” Max exhaled slowly, wondering how the conversation derailed.

“But you gave me a ring and declared your undying love for me.” Now Alec seemed disappointed.

“Undying—“ Max sputtered helplessly. “Listen dammit—“

“Yes, my love?” Alec’s green eyes lit up with hope—and Max could not, for the life of her, wipe the joy from his eyes. She did love him. She just had to save him first.

“I am not proposing Alec.” Max tried again, really needing him to focus. “It’s not a ring.”

“But—“ Alec wiggled his ring finger at her. “It feels like a ring, a symbol of your undying love—“

Then realizing she wasn’t going to win, Max just cut him off.

“It is a ring. I do love you. But it’s more than that.”

Alec just frowned at her. “This is a terrible proposal Max. It’s a ring. It’s not a ring. What is it?”

“It’s my last tracker.” Max leaned on the chain link, inhaling the scent of Alec deep into her lungs. “Don’t lose it. I’m coming back for you.”


	29. Reckoning

Chapter 28 – Reckoning

Natalya sent a guard to collect her winnings. The bastard had won 12 consecutive fights—and except for the first match, no one had actually touched him. Just how hard was it to land a punch on him?

He was turned away from her, head bowed, arms resting on the chain link fence. She took her time, scrutinizing him, eyes sweeping over his form, looking for any injuries she might have missed. All she saw was his strong back, his wide shoulders, his skin gleaming from sweat.

She faced her guest, the woman unfortunately named after fruit. Why would any parent name a child Cherry, Apple, or Peaches? She did not understand much of the American culture. But she understood money. So she flashed an apologetic smile, offering a hundred dollar bill. “I’m sorry you did not enjoy the fight. Please accept a small gift.”

She saw the blonde blink in surprise, hesitation in her voice. “You don’t have to pay me. I’m happy to support Alec. But I thought Max would be here?”

Natalya said nothing, only taking in her lovely features, innocent blue eyes staring into her own. Something twisted at her, regret maybe—knowing that she would be dead soon. 

The waitress had served her purpose.

* * * *

Alec didn’t hear anyone come up behind him. He didn’t even feel the prick of the needle. He just knew that Max had been in front of him—and he’d sent her away.

He really was a dumbass.

Just minutes ago, the woman he loved had proposed to him. She could deny it all she wanted, but he knew. He had a ring to prove it.

He’d been ecstatic—until he remembered that Cherry was about to meet her untimely death. He’d ignored Max muttering about the ring, hoping that she would listen to him.

His hand had closed over hers, fingers intertwining, despite the chain link fence between them.

“I’ll wait for you Max.”

He watched her blink back sudden tears. Then she had nodded, slowly backing up, but not before he heard her final words—

“Don’t let her kill you Alec.”

* * * *

Except for the captain of her guard, everyone was in the van, waiting for Natalya’s orders. No one had bothered to tie up Alec. This time Natalya had given him a double dosage of sedative.

He looked like he was in the middle of peaceful nap. 

She smirked. That was the last time he was going to get any peace.

* * * *

Max waited in the shadows, leaning against a brick wall, staring at two identical black vans in front of her. She had just watched an unconscious Alec get shoved into the first van. It had taken all of her willpower not to snatch him then and there.

Then she heard footsteps—before Cherry turned the corner, followed by one of Natalya’s guards. He led her to the second van, opening the door for her, polite and charming.

She got in without complaint.

She heard both engines start up. Then each van exited the parking lot—one making a left turn, and the other making a right. She resisted the urge to follow Alec. Instead she took a deep breath, leaning over her bike, following from a safe distance.

Cherry would not end up in a body bag tonight.

* * * *

Natalya entered the basement, ignoring his clothes, eyes lighting up when she realized how much of his blood she had already spilled. It was a wonder that he survived the cage fights at all.

It had been mostly body blows though, as she wanted to save his pretty face for the cage. Except for the one cut on his cheek, it didn’t look like he’d been in any fight at all.

She was about to change that.

* * * *

Alec staggered into the room, wondering why it seemed familiar. He saw his pile of clothes—the overturned furniture—and his blood spatters everywhere.

Crap. Natalya brought him here to finish him off.

The cage fighters couldn’t do the job, so she would.

His vision started swimming again, so leaned against the nearest wall. He wasn’t about to fall down, not yet.

He watched her across the room, meticulously wrapping her hands, then flexing her fingers. It was an odd sight really. Except for the bright yellow hand wraps, she really did look like a supermodel. Her hair was swept up, exposing an elegant neck, small ears adorned with long diamond earrings, those nearly brushing her shoulders. She was wearing a fancy halter top with wide legged pants—and high heels of course. 

While he should have been thinking of ways to escape, all he could think was—

_Was she going to beat him up dressed like that?_

* * * *

“You are ready for me?” She looked at him, comfortable against the wall, his eyes closed.

“What is this?” She walked right up to him, listening to his even breathing. “You dare—take a nap?”

Then Natalya stepped back, knowing that he was playing with her, knowing that she didn’t care anymore. She was done with all the games.

Aiming for his face, she threw the first punch. Instead of feeling the impact, instead of watching his head slam into the wall—the bastard surprised her. 

He caught her fist, before he smiled at her.

* * * *

“So how much did we make today? We split 50-50 right?” Alec pushed her fist out of the way. Then he pushed his entire body off the wall.

He’d been resting, yes. Mostly because the damn drugs were running through his system (again). His body felt really lethargic, like moving was too much effort. In fact, it had taken everything in him to stop her fist from breaking his face. Add to that, he was actually seeing two of her—so he was surprised that he caught her fist at all.

Then moving off the wall had taken the last of his energy, and he was fighting very hard to stay upright. He wasn’t sure he could keep it up. So he changed strategy. He used the one weapon he still had.

His mouth.

* * * *

“You find new ways to insult me.” Natalya narrowed her gaze, surprised that he could even speak, knowing how strong the drugs were. “But we collected the entire pot, well into the six figures.”

She stepped back, nodding at her guards, waiting for them to take position. “That is just money. You owe me more. You owe me my brother’s life.”

She smiled at him, at long last, breathing words to cleanse her soul.

“Today is your reckoning.” 

Then she reared back, this time knowing that he couldn’t avoid her, that he would finally bleed for all his wrongs.

* * * *

Alec felt the guards shift near him, and before he could protest, they had their hands on him—forcing him still, unable to avoid Natalya’s blows. She got his face, again and again. He felt his lip split open, and dammit, blood was somehow leaking _into_ his eye. 

“Ok, ok. How about 60-40? Your favor.” Alec glanced at her, watching her nostrils flare, her blue eyes promising more pain.

* * * *

“Everything is my favor.” Natalya hissed, his arrogance just too much. As if he had the right to dismiss how serious this was. With every word she spoke, she landed a blow to his face—his cheek, his chin, his other cheek. Then she aimed for his eyes—because she hated the color of his eyes. She kept jabbing at his face, waiting for him to plead for mercy, waiting for him to take his death seriously.

Soon, one eye was swollen shut, and that made her smile.

Blood trickled from his mouth, from his cheek, from his temple.

His pretty face was no more.

_Now he was beautiful._

* * * *

Max kept the van in sight, wondering when they’d get off Ocean Avenue, knowing that Cherry’s apartment was close by. They missed the first turn—and the one right after. Before they hit the next light, Max knew that the driver was headed for the freeway.

Alec was right. He wasn’t dropping her off at home. He was dropping her off a cliff.

She saw the upcoming traffic light, the green changing to yellow. Instead of speeding up, the van slowed down. Even though it was just past 2:00A.M., with no other vehicles on the streets, the driver would not risk a traffic violation.

She smiled grimly—counting on the light to be red. 

It was.

Max made her move.

* * * *

Natalya took a few moments to study the damage, his swollen face, his cut lip, his perfect symmetry broken and bloody.

She inhaled deeply, the metallic smell of his blood strong. Her brother would be so disappointed in her—tormenting his own killer like this.

But she had no forgiveness left in her. She would find justice for Mischa, even if he disagreed with her methods.

* * * *

Max sped up, swerving left, pulling up next to the driver’s side. She saw his elbow resting on the open window. The guard turned to her, surprised that anyone was near him at all. She winked at him before she aimed the pepper spray, giving him a hefty dose in both eyes.

“Grab the wheel Cherry!”

The van rolled before it lurched to a full stop, the driver yelling at her, already pulling out his gun. It was too bad his vision was impaired. Max yanked the door open, grabbing the gun out of his hand, before smashing his face with it.

He groaned before he fell on top of her—sending them both to the pavement. Max pushed him off her, already rolling away from him. Good thing too—the blinded driver was now swinging a small knife at her. He couldn’t see her, but he knew that she was close.

Max jumped the guard, straddling him, one hand going for the knife, the other going for his throat. She pried open his hand, forcing him to drop his weapon. Then she punched his face—repeatedly, before she grabbed him by the ears—just to bash his head into the ground. It was satisfying that sound—his head slamming into the pavement, bone against concrete.

She did it again, and she would have kept going—except that she heard a familiar voice.

* * * *

Natalya listened to his labored breathing. He wasn’t quite dead, but he would be soon.

All these years of searching and wondering—and today it would all end. She could finally let go of all the misery and doubts.

There was no good reason for anyone to murder her brother. So she didn’t bother asking for an explanation. He would have lied anyway. She had no desire to hear him speak.

If he wasn’t going to beg for his life, then his voice was worthless to her.

* * * *

“Max?” It was Cherry, reminding her that death was an option, not a necessity. 

Max stared at the guard, already unconscious—yet she had one hand behind his head—and one hand on his chin. Just a little twist, just a little pull—and he would be dead.

She stared at the tattoo on his neck, the dragon starting below his chin, moving down the side of his throat, and disappearing beneath his collar. This guard was important to Natalya. She’d chosen him to drive Cherry, kill her, and dispose of her body. Max knew it with certainty.

She should kill him now. It would be one less enemy.

Except—

She could hear Cherry’s heartbeat racing. She wasn’t expecting death.

Max released the guard, hoping it was the right decision.

* * * *

Natalya nodded at her guards, the ones holding him upright. Both men let go, stepping back, knowing that Natalya would finish the job soon.

She watched Alec weave uncertainly, before he dropped to his hands and knees. At least he wasn’t talking anymore. She couldn’t stand the sound of his smirking voice. She glanced at her hands, the yellow hand wraps stained with his blood—and now it seemed an odd shade of pink.

She had never liked the color pink. But today, it was exquisite.

She smiled slowly, knowing that she should wash the wraps, knowing that she never would. It would be the one reminder she would keep of her brother’s killer.


	30. Chained

Chapter 29 – Chained

Natalya waited for him to give in—to fall down already. Even on his hands and knees, he was stubborn. Then she toed him, almost gently, and that was all it took.

He landed with a dull thud.

“Is he dead?” She bent over his still form, listening for his breath. 

Her guards all shrugged, careful not to say anything.

“Chain him to that—thing.” Natalya waved at the radiator by the window. She glanced at her torn slacks, knowing that she did not look her best. “20 minutes. I change and come back. No one touches him.”

Before she left, Natalya took in the sad state of her prisoner. He wasn’t going anywhere. Still she did not trust him. But she trusted her guards. “He does not escape.” She looked at each guard, meeting each gaze. “Or you die, yes?”

Every single guard nodded in agreement.

She smiled and walked out the door.

* * * *

Alec resisted the urge to move. Best he could tell, he was on the floor, leaning against a radiator. No—chained to it. 

_Goddammit._

Alec considered just taking a nap on the floor. It was filthy, but he didn’t care. His body ached, he was hungry, and he was weak from the stupid drugs. It was just a bad combination all around.

He tasted blood on his lip, knowing that his face was all messed up. Every part of him hurt—but for all that, he wasn’t dead yet. Good news then.

Bad news was that she planned to space out the torture.

It was quiet, but he knew he wasn’t alone. He counted at least three separate heartbeats in the room. Was there another guard outside the room? So a total of four guards surrounded him (maybe). One guard had gone with Cherry—and the other one, hell, he didn’t know.

He waited for Natalya’s voice. He gave it a full minute before he decided to check (assuming his eyelids cooperated). Damn, one eye was broken.

But he had seen enough. Natalya wasn’t in the room.

* * * *

Max peeked around the corner, only to flatten her body against the wall. She heard the door opening, and out stepped Natalya, clad in her fancy clothes, focused on her hands, unwrapping, unwrapping—

Max stilled. The metallic smell was enough to make her knees buckle.

It was the scent of Alec’s blood—and it was all over Natalya.

* * * *

Natalya stepped into the elevator, going six floors up. She had bought the entire building years ago, when the market had dropped. She had been converting each floor slowly, starting with the basement. 

She walked into the penthouse, checking each little alarm, knowing that no one had breached her personal space. Quickly she shed her clothes, heading for the bathroom. She needed to wash his scent off her.

Before she turned on the hot water, she paused. Stark naked, she stalked into her office and switched on the monitors. Screens flickered to life, cameras outside of the building, scanning the perimeter. She switched to the other cameras, going floor by floor, seeing nothing suspicious. Then she switched to the basement camera, the one trained on her prisoner.

He was still unconscious—immobile—and not a threat. Satisfied, she smiled and turned away. It was too bad that she missed that flicker, that little bit of movement—before all hell broke loose in the basement.

* * * *

Max counted to three—before she blurred and took care of the guard just outside the door. She jumped him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands going for his head, positioned just right, the movements quick and lethal.

He didn’t have a chance.

She snapped his neck with ease—this time, without hesitation, without anyone to stop her.

* * * *

Alec heard the door open. Then he heard a familiar sound, something metal rolling on the ground. With his limited vision, he squinted at the open door, then—

Did a grenade just roll to a stop in front of him?

_Holy hell. He was dead._

* * * *

Max closed the door, scanning the hallway, waiting for the flash grenade to do its job. 

Then the guards were yelling—the brightness sudden and blinding—the loud bang causing temporary deafness.

Max pushed the door open, sweeping the room, targeting the guard furthest away from her. She threw a knife, aiming for the throat, ending his life before he could warn anyone.

Two more guards were in front of her—one facing her, one not. She jumped the nearest one, landing on his back, using his body as a shield, knowing the other guard would shoot.

He did. He shot his friend in the chest.

He wasn’t dead yet, so Max simply held on. She slid one arm under his neck, squeezing—while the other arm pushed his head forward. She felt him losing strength, and she could have let go then.

She didn’t.

* * * *

Resigned to his death, Alec didn’t bother moving. He was chained after all, plus he was too tired to even move. Death by Natalya or death by grenade?

Yeah, definitely the grenade.

He wouldn’t have to look at her smug Russian face anymore.

* * * *

Max knew that she was taking a risk. She should have let go so that she could escape the big guard before he collapsed on her. They had fallen backwards. She was trapped underneath him now.

She eyed the last guard. Even though he was disoriented, he was moving toward her, his aim a bit wild.

Before she could move, the guard was standing right above her, his weapon ready. Except he didn’t see her, so he lowered his gun. He only saw his friend bleeding out on the floor.

He didn’t see Max take the gun from his friend’s holster. He didn’t see Max shift and pull the trigger.

He only he saw his friend’s death. He didn’t see his own.

* * * *

Alec heard bullets—which only confused him. What exactly would the guards be shooting at?

And what kind of wimpy grenade was that?

It was loud enough, but he expected metal fragments to hit him. Nothing had so far, which was entirely surprising.

He hadn’t bothered to open his eyes, mostly because they didn’t work—but also, the last time he opened his one eye—he saw a grenade. He did not want to see what else was waiting for him.

* * * *

Max pushed the guard’s body off, rolling out of the way. She held onto the gun, just in case the guards weren’t dead enough.

She stood up, counting the bodies, seeing only three hostiles in the room. Then she made the mistake of looking at Alec. She knew it was him, but dammit—

His face and body were a testament to the viciousness of Natalya.

It was enough to send her over the edge.

She walked to each guard and put an extra bullet in each one. 

For all her promises not to kill, not to pick up a gun—

She just didn’t think redemption was worth it.

Not today.

* * * *

Alec thought he smelled Max, and he almost smiled. It’s just his face hurt too much to do even that. So he touched the ring on his finger, the new one Max gave him—and he let the pain take over.

He was so tired. 

He felt the air shift near him. He didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. So he didn’t bother reacting when someone touched his face.

When someone called his name.

When someone touched his barcode.

* * * *

Max stood over the slumped form of Alec, the fury spreading throughout her body. Even when White had captured Alec, it hadn’t been this bad. Bullets had done _less_ damage than this.

Natalya had decimated him. One eye was swollen shut, that cut above his temple was deep, the blood flowing freely. His face was a bloody mess. The worst thing was—he wasn’t moving.

_He looked dead._

Slowly Max sank to her knees, gently caressing his cheek, murmuring his name. He didn’t respond to her. She smoothed his hair, careful not to touch any open wounds. Her fingers drifted to his neck, looking for a pulse, lingering at his barcode.

He was alive—but just barely. It was time to go.

* * * *

Natalya stood under the hot shower, unmoving, her mind blank. This happened always—after she got her target. She would let the hot water release all the tension—and she would let her mind relax.

She went through her ritual, with the expensive shampoo and conditioner—with the matching body wash too. She lathered and scrubbed and rinsed—until the smell of him was gone.

Her skin was pink, almost like the hand wraps.

She stared into the mirror, the steam only allowing her to see her silhouette. She wiped the glass with her bare hands, seeing her long hair wet and tangled. Then she saw a tiny speck of red on her cheek—and she felt something in her rejoice.

Only his blood could make her smile like that.

* * * *

Max studied the iron shackle around his ankle—and chained to the radiator behind him. She couldn’t find any built-in lock—so she couldn’t pick it open. Then there was the chain—it was something she’d never seen before. It was almost like a series of infinity signs, all linked together. She picked it up, feeling its weight, wondering if she could yank it apart without detaching Alec’s ankle.

She pulled the chain, testing its strength. The infinity links held. The radiator didn’t budge. Alec made a weird noise (which could have been a grunt).

She didn’t think she could break the chain. So she had to detach the radiator from the wall—and she had to do it fast. It had already been five minutes since she’d seen Natalya. She doubted that she went far. In fact, she would bet that Natalya would come striding through that door real soon.

She located the radiator valves, quickly shutting off each one. Then finding a strong grip on the radiator, she yanked hard, but nothing happened. Huffing, she rearranged herself, putting one leg against the wall, so she had some leverage. She pulled again—and landed on her ass—the radiator still attached to the wall.

She didn’t have time to fight with a stubborn radiator. Besides, the chain was actually attached to the radiator itself. So was she planning to haul Alec _and_ the radiator to safety?

She crawled to Alec, stopping at his foot, studying the shackle on his ankle. It couldn’t be this complicated. They got it on him, and they planned to get it off him—somehow.

Carefully, she rotated the shackle around his ankle. Then she saw what she missed the first time—a series of hinges interlocking. She clenched her teeth. If she messed up the order, then it would tighten. But if she did it correctly, she would free him.

Goddammit. She hated puzzle locks.

* * * *

Natalya started humming, feeling better already. The hot shower had restored her—centered her—so that her temper would not get the best of her. While she enjoyed torturing her brother’s killer, she just wanted to end his life. As she considered the many ways to kill a man, she put on her favorite pantsuit in pure white.

She almost walked out the door then, before she turned back, grabbing the knife her brother had given all those years ago. She would use the knife and finally put her brother’s killer in a grave.

* * * *

Max stared at the last hinge. Which way? She ran her thumb over it, then closing her eyes, she pushed at the metal, hoping it would open—and not tighten instead.

The metal scraped, resisting—before it finally gave way. The shackled opened, and Alec was free.

Max blinked away sudden tears. Now was not the time for a breakdown. She had to haul his ass out of the basement.

Before she could move, she felt him stir, and she heard him whisper—

“Max?”

* * * *

Alec smiled—or at least, he tried to.

“I can’t tell the kids you proposed here. This is worse than after the cage fights.” 

She didn’t answer. But he felt her hands running over body, checking for injuries. He did his best not to wince, but even the slightest touch hurt him.

“How’s the face?” He might as well know. 

It was silent then, and he thought he heard her breath shuddering. But his ears were still ringing from the grenade, so he wasn’t sure.

“She knocked the pretty off you.” That was all she said.

“She really did.” He had to admit. Even though his lips were bleeding with each word, he kept going. “You love me anyway?”

“I do.” Then he felt her lean in, before she whispered, “You were too pretty anyway."


	31. Godiva

Chapter 30 – Godiva

Max changed the saline solution before she administered a painkiller. She knew that his body was still recovering from all the abuse. Best she could tell, Alec didn’t put up much of a fight. 

Natalya had clobbered him good, leaving him for dead. She was just lucky that she managed to get him out in time.

She was lucky that Cherry had been there, waiting in the van, so that they could haul Alec to safety.

She was lucky that Alec had been unconscious.

Because the one guard that she did not kill—he should have been in the van, tied up and asleep. 

He wasn’t.

* * * *

Natalya surveyed the basement in frozen horror. She didn’t see the dead bodies of her guards. She only saw the chain, the open shackle—and she knew that he was gone.

She took a step inside, only to slowly sink to her knees, her pantsuit soaking up his blood. She screamed then, hating that he’d escaped because she’d been careless—and arrogant. She drove the jeweled knife into the ground, forgetting it was concrete, watching the tip break off. She stared at the knife, the knife that should have ended his life. Then, for a reckless second, she thought she could use the knife anyway.

Except that someone pulled her up, and she found herself staring at the one guard she forgot about. Her captain. The one she’d sent away to kill the waitress.

He said only one word to her—

_“Nyet.”_

* * * *

Max prepared for another blood transfusion. He was stable for now—but he still needed blood. The swelling on his face had gone down some, but it had only been a day. His recovery should have been faster, but he was fighting her.

He was fighting the drugs.

* * * *

Alec felt another needle pierce his skin. He knew it had to be Max, but still—

He was tired of the drugs in his system.

He could recover just fine without them.

So he forced his eyes open (ok, just the one that was functional). He saw her leaning forward, head bowed, a tube running from her arm to his, her blood flowing to him. She looked pale. For someone who didn’t need sleep, she had dark circles under her eyes.

Then she looked up, almost like someone called her name. He heard a jumble of words, none of which made sense—

“Get some rest. I’ll watch him now.” Was that the waitress? So Max had saved her after all?

He felt Max retreat, and he knew the transfusion was done. Then he felt her hair brush his cheeks—and he felt her nose against his, gently rubbing. He felt her touch her forehead to his, before she left a kiss there.

He almost smiled then. He loved her kisses when she thought he was asleep. He would have relaxed then, except he heard—

“I’ll be back Alec.”

* * * *

Max shoved the drugs into her backpack, careful that she collected the right ones. She listened for the orderlies, knowing that she had another 10 minutes before the next round.

When she exited the hospital, she should have headed directly to Alec. Instead, she went the opposite direction. She took her bike, crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, riding back to the city that nearly destroyed Alec.

* * * *

Natalya sat on her sofa, still in her white pantsuit, leaning forward, holding the damaged knife. The silk was stained with his blood, and sometimes she would touch her thighs, skimming over the dried stains, clutching at her knees.

“It has been three days.” Sergei gently took the knife out of her hands. “Perhaps you shower now?”

“That is why I lost him!” Natalya looked stricken. “Because I was stupid. Because I thought I could shower. I should have killed him first.”

“We will find him again.” He pulled her up, carefully guiding her to the bathroom. “Let the steam cleanse you. Wipe this mistake from your mind.”

“Only his death will cleanse me.” She grabbed him by the shoulders. “I had him Sergei. I had him.”

“We go to Ilya then.” He turned on the shower jets. “We ask for his help. He knows her.”

“I have betrayed him.” Her blue eyes reflected a wildness he’d never seen before. “He will kill me on the spot.”

“Perhaps.” But he was captain of her guard with good reason. He understood more than he allowed others to believe. “Or he might take pity on you—and help you get your vengeance. You have served him many years. He owes you.”

* * * *

Ilya walked into his apartment, exhausted from the fallout of Natalya’s betrayal. He dropped his keys onto the console table by the door. He would have walked directly to his bedroom, except that he noticed a small box of Godiva chocolates on the table. He hadn’t eaten chocolate in years. 

He stared at the brown and gold box, the elaborate red bow even bigger than the box itself. Carefully, he picked up the box and walked into the kitchen. He needed a drink before he dealt with Max.

It was too bad that she was sitting on the counter waiting for him.

* * * *

Max watched Ilya open the refrigerator, unaware of her presence. She kept quiet, watching his quick movements, as he pulled out two bottles of Anchor Steam. Carefully, he closed the fridge with his hip, walking both beers to the small kitchen table.

Before he could even sit, Max spoke up, asking a rather important question—

“You drink beer? I thought it was vodka all day, everyday.”

* * * *

Ilya smiled, offering her a beer, walking the short distance to her. “I keep it stocked, just in case you stop by.”

Max accepted the beer, holding it in one hand, but not drinking it. He watched her study the label, saying nothing.

“I like whiskey actually. Scotch is my favorite.” Ilya shrugged. “Not all Russians drink vodka like water.”

“You are like Alec then.” That was her reply. He looked at her then, seeing how absolutely still she was.

Ilya froze. So she would get right to the point then. Which meant he might as well ask the most obvious question—but also, the most dangerous question.

“How is he?”

* * * *

Max stared at him, listening to his steady heartbeat, his even breathing. This man would pass any polygraph test.

“Almost dead.”

She kept her answer simple—and she watched him flinch. So he didn’t like to think of Alec dead then. 

“Did you know Natalya would come after Alec?”

She closed her eyes, allowing him to think her vulnerable, allowing him to think her stupid. She would hear if he moved. Hell, she would feel it in the air.

When he said nothing, Max opened her eyes, meeting his steady gaze. He was about to speak, but only if she looked at him.

So she did.

* * * *

“I have spent the last few days—“ Ilya paused, attempting to find an appropriate word. “Cleaning the mess Natalya left behind.”

“Cleaning?” She actually snorted at him. “You mean killing off the traitors—or rewarding them?”

Ilya stood straight. “I do not reward traitors rybka. My people are either loyal to me—or they are not.”

“Some of your people were loyal to Natalya.” Max only snapped at him.

“Those that were are now dead.” Ilya spoke quietly. “It did not give me pleasure to end their lives.”

“You did not know that she wanted Alec?” He heard the disbelief in her voice.

He knew that Max was waiting for him to lie, to give himself away. But he had nothing to hide, so he told her.

“She broke when she found this.” Ilya opened a folder that the man had left him. He pulled out the mug shot from Seattle.

He watched her freeze, before she took it from him. Then suddenly she looked as tired as he felt. All she said was—

“Alec is not Ben.”

* * * *

Max fought every instinct to scream. She was exhausted. She’d spent three days (and nights) trying to nurse Alec back to health. She’d just robbed a local hospital so that she could have enough drugs to induce a medical coma. Not that she wanted to—but dammit, Alec was fighting her too much. He needed to rest his brain (literally), so that he could heal.

Now she was listening to Ilya tell her that poor Natalya had every right to torture Alec. When she would have thrown the beer across the room, when she would have kicked the table—she forced her entire body still. She didn’t care why Natalya took Alec.

She only cared that Natalya did.

That she almost killed Alec.

Now she would pay.

* * * *

Ilya waited for an explosion that never came. Max was about to lose her temper—he could feel it.

Except that she did not.

Instead she looked at him with cold eyes—and he knew that his life would be in her hands once again—depending on what happened in the next few seconds.

She asked only one question.

“Does she deserve to live or die?”

* * * *

Max watched him, knowing that his loyalties would be torn. That Natalya had been with him for years, faithful in all ways—except for just a few days ago.

It would be hard to dismiss someone like that.

But he didn’t even hesitate. His answer was quick. It was certain. It was absolute.

“She is dead to me. I will help you if you need it.”

* * * *

Ilya knew it surprised her, that she wasn’t expecting his response.

But he knew that Natalya was too dangerous to ever welcome back. She would always want revenge for her brother’s killer.

He was the only link to Max—and the only way to reach Alec.

He knew that Natalya would either come back groveling—or she would threaten his life with a gun, demanding Max’s whereabouts. It was only a matter of time really.

* * * *

“Will you wear a tracker for me?” Max held out a small disc. “Keep it on your body somewhere.”

She watched Ilya nod, before he took the tracker, examining it closely. Then she stood, preparing to leave.

“One week Ilya. Be safe, and don’t let her near you. Buy me some time before she captures you.” Max watched him raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“She will come for you.” Max walked away from him. “I would.”

* * * *

“A safe word, we need one.” Ilya stopped her from leaving. “If I am compromised, then you must know.”

Max leaned against the counter, right by his very expensive knife block. “Which word?”

Ilya picked up his box of new chocolates. “How about Godiva?”

Max almost smiled. “You will work Godiva in a sentence if you’re compromised?”

He nodded, his voice solemn. “Godiva is the best chocolate in the world.” He sighed when she grimaced. “I will practice.”

Then she surprised him when she pulled a small knife from his block, quickly slicing her palm. She didn’t even watch the blood drip. She only extended her hand to him, her words taking him back to years ago.

“Do we still have a blood oath Ilya?”

He took the knife from her, never breaking her gaze, making that cut, feeling the wound. He took her hand, their blood mingling once again.

“We do.” That was all he said. That was all he had to say.


	32. Dreaming

Chapter 31 – Dreaming

Alec flinched, waiting for a blow that never came. His eyes flew open, unseeing, his heart racing, his breathing too fast. Natalya had finally found him with Max. He had watched frozen, as she put bullets into Max, laughing—before she stabbed him with endless needles. Then she had raised her gun, about to smash cold metal into him, about to break his face again.

But the scent of Max was strong, the cherry and vanilla soothing him, enough that he let go of the uncertainty, the panic slowly fading. He wasn’t entirely lucid. He wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. He only knew that his entire body hurt—but at least he wasn’t dead.

So he sank into the pain, knowing that the drugs were finally wearing off—that soon he’d have some sanity back—and wake up from the never ending horror of Natalya killing Max.

He closed his eyes, his mind carefully blank, refusing to fall into the dream again. It didn’t last long though.

He was dreaming soon enough.

* * * *

Max tapped her foot, waiting for Cherry to select groceries. She would have done it herself, but she knew that Cherry had been going stir crazy for a week already. So she had agreed to a quick shopping trip.

Her only concern was that Alec would wake up alone. She had weaned him off the drugs yesterday, and she had hoped he would be awake by now.

He wasn’t.

He had been especially twitchy though, like he wanted to wake up—but didn’t know how. As soon as she got close enough, he’d stop moving immediately, completely still, like he knew she was nearby.

Then she’d walk away, 20 feet to the kitchen—and he would start kicking off bed sheets.

When she called his name, he would freeze. When she touched his face, he would sigh. Even unconscious he had radar. He knew when she was too far away.

* * * *

Alec woke suddenly, gasping, shaking free of the dream. He took a moment to listen, hearing nothing, only the odd sound of crickets outside. He felt the emptiness of the space, and he knew that he was alone.

His entire body was sore—his face especially. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the darkness. Carefully, he tried to sit up, only to realize that he could not move. Confused, he tried again, and this time he felt the reason.

He was strapped in.

* * * *

Max threw bags of pork rinds into her shopping basket. She shuddered when she started reading the labels. The sodium was really high—and was it actually made of pork?

Whatever. It was time to go. She glanced at the clock above the register. Frowning, she realized that they’d been gone over an hour.

Five minutes, that was it. She was going to leave Cherry if she didn’t show up soon.

* * * *

Alec closed his eyes, frustrated and angry. He’d spent at least 30 minutes trying to loosen the damn straps. Best he could tell, he only managed to get bloody wrists out of it. Even his ankles were strapped in.

Max would never do this to him.

So had he imagined her this whole time? Was he still Natalya’s prisoner?

Then because he didn’t know what else to do, Alec started yelling, his Russian and English mixing—

“What the fuck Natalya! Just kill me already!”

* * * *

Max knew something was wrong even before they got out of the van. The small cabin was pitch black—which meant that the circuit breakers had tripped again. But worse than that, she knew that Alec had finally come out of his coma.

She could hear him even with the windows rolled up.

First she couldn’t understand a word.

Then she realized that he was yelling for Natalya.

She burst through the front door, expecting to find Alec on the bed.

He wasn’t.

* * * *

He heard the vehicle pull up. He saw the headlights outside. He knew that someone was coming soon.

He had only just managed to escape the stupid straps. He was too weak to run, but he could fight—or at least try.

He looked around, seeing the kitchen, wondering if he would find anything useful. He shuffled to the stove, reaching for an empty pot. It was not the ideal weapon, but it was heavy. It could work.

Then he noticed the island countertop, complete with a cutting board and chef’s knife—plus sliced tomatoes and zucchini.

_Someone was making dinner?_

The knife was a better weapon, definitely. Before he could pick it up, he got distracted by a bowl of cherries—and a lump of dough.

_So dessert also?_

The door opened, and Alec reacted before he could overthink it. He swung the pot, aiming for the head, hoping that was enough to stop Natalya cold.

* * * *

“Alec—“ Max staggered, before she bumped right into the door. Then she clutched her head, like that would make the pain go away.

“What did you hit me with?” she gasped, waiting for Alec to say something.

He only looked at her like she was a ghost.

* * * *

“Are you real Max?” Alec dropped the pot with a clatter. Then he pulled her close, away from the door—petting her hair, touching her face, sniffing her neck.

She only looked at him, hurt, slowly rubbing her head.

“This is a terrible reunion.” Then she leaned into him, dropping her head on his shoulder. “I’m going to tell the kids you hit me with a pot.”

* * * *

“I was strapped in, and I panicked, and I thought Natalya just devised some new way to torment me.” Alec rubbed her head gently, messing up her already messy French braid. “I’m sorry about the pot. Don’t tell the kids.”

“I’m sorry about the straps. I forgot to take them off.” He watched her sigh, closing her eyes. “You were fighting me when I first injected you. I know you don’t like the straps. I don’t either. But I really, really needed you to keep still. So you could heal.”

Then he felt her hands on his, and he heard her very quiet words—

“Forgive me?”

* * * *

“As long as you’re not some hallucination.” She felt him kiss the bump on her head. “I’ll forgive you anything.”

“Look at this.” She took his hands, examining his wrists, both of them now raw and bloody. “I need to wrap this up.”

Max stood up, pulling him with her, walking toward the bed. “Just sit down and be quiet.”

She opened the med kit, pulling out bandages and antiseptic. She glanced at him, noting his silence as he waited for her. He sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze steady and unreadable. Max frowned at him, before she focused her attention on his ankles. They weren’t nearly as raw as his wrists. Still, she kneeled before him, lifting each foot, examining the skin around his ankles.

He must have known she was about to stand up. Because his next words made her freeze, like her knees were glued to the floor.

“I accept.”

* * * *

Alec couldn’t help it. She looked so serious studying his ankles like the world depended on her diagnosis.

He wasn’t a total dumbass. When he realized that his ankles were also strapped in, he focused on freeing his wrists first. When he finally did, he was able to reach his ankles, undoing the straps. The damage to his ankles was minimal.

Mostly he messed up his wrists, and that was because he’d been livid when he woke. Despite his demented dreaming, he had known on some level that Max would not leave him to rot with Natalya. But waking up to the straps had made him question his sanity, pushing him to the edge of panic. 

So this was a welcome reprieve, Max alive and well—instead of dying so vividly in front of him. He loved her taking care of him, not that he would admit that out loud. So he took advantage of the kneeling Max—and really enjoyed the look of surprise on her lovely face.

“I still have the ring.” He waved his left hand at Max, wiggling fingers helpfully. “See?”

She said nothing, so he kept going—because why not?

“It’s not the Golden Gate, but it’s almost romantic.” She might have snorted, but that didn’t count for anything. “I mean, you’re kneeling and all.”

* * * *

Max almost snapped at him—when she realized it didn’t matter at all. She missed this, Alec irritating her for no good reason. She missed his voice. 

She missed him loving her.

Three days he fought her when she’d tried to sedate him with her limited collection of drugs. Then she took a day to steal stronger medications—and talk to Ilya. It took another day to travel back—and hope that Alec was still too weak to get off the bed and give her trouble.

Then using her newly acquired drugs, she had put him into a coma, effectively shutting down all brain function. He had ceased fighting immediately, scaring her witless, making her question her dosage calculations.

But his pulse had been normal, so Max had let go of the uncertainty, knowing that it was too late for doubts. Alec had taken a good beating to the head, not including his broken face. Natalya had also done considerable damage to his body as well. She was sure that Alec had some broken ribs—and maybe a punctured lung too. 

Add to that, his breathing worried her. It was mostly steady—except sometimes she thought she heard a hitch. It was like an odd pause, like his lungs were struggling to find oxygen.

She listened carefully, closing her eyes, not hearing the hitch—only his deep voice teasing her, waiting for her to react.

She must have taken too long—because she felt his fingers under her chin, tilting her face up. Her eyes flew open, meeting his very serious gaze, the green and gold mixing so beautifully. She had missed looking into his eyes too.

Almost two weeks Alec had been unconscious, recovering—but slowly. Even with their rapid healing skills, Max still felt uneasy. Like she had missed something. Like the other shoe was about to drop. 

She took a deep breath, about to explain everything that had occurred since escaping Natalya—until they both remembered they weren’t alone after all.

* * * *

“You look wonderful Alec!” Cherry smiled as she brought the bags of groceries inside. “Still so handsome! Like your face was never banged up at all.”

“I’ll finish dinner.” She headed to the kitchen, automatically putting everything away. “How does cherry pie sound Alec?”

* * * *

Max watched Alec’s eyes widen in surprise—before he actually started preening for Cherry. He smoothed his hair (still standing up in random directions, unfortunately).

“You think so?” Alec beamed at Cherry, the poor waitress unprepared for his megawatt smile. “Because that Russian psycho broke my face in half. I’m surprised my eyeballs work at all.”

“But your eyes are perfect.” Cherry blinked rapidly, before she shook her head. “Maybe you could put some clothes on?”

Max stood up, blocking Cherry’s view, giving Alec a clean shirt. “Just be careful of the chest bandages.” Quickly, she applied antiseptic to his new wounds, ignoring his hissing—before she wrapped each wrist. “For the record, that was not a proposal.”

Then, just in case he didn’t understand, she decided to clarify—

“You’ll be doing the proposing. Not me.”

* * * *

Alec knew that Max was stubborn. But he could be too.

While any other person would have heard a denial—Alec only heard a challenge.

So Max didn’t think she would propose?

How wrong she was.

* * * *

Max looked up from his wrists, concerned at the sudden silence. She blinked uncertainly when she realized how very serious he seemed.

Then she saw his slow smile, like he had a little secret—before he pulled at her, making her stumble toward him. He caught her, his hands steadying her, his mouth already claiming hers. Then he leaned his forehead on hers, rubbing his nose on hers, and very quietly he said—

“You’ll propose Max. You just don’t know it.”

* * * *

Alec enjoyed thwarting Max anytime he could. He especially enjoyed that look of bewilderment, that furrowed brow, the way her mouth parted in confusion.

Before she could respond, their favorite waitress announced dinner. Alec smirked, standing too quickly, realizing that his legs weren’t at full strength yet. He wobbled, before he just sat down, nearly missing the edge of the bed, not seeing Max bite her lip in laughter. He looked up though, when he thought he heard her snicker—but she only looked at him with innocent brown eyes.

Before he could complain, Max kissed him slowly, full on the mouth, uncaring that they had an audience. Then she leaned her forehead on his, just like he did to her moments ago. She looked at him, very quiet and serious. When he thought she would say nothing, he finally heard her speak.

“I’ll be waiting for your proposal Alec.”

* * * *

Max stood over the sleeping form of Alec, watching his chest rise and fall. He looked so peaceful, like he didn’t just spend nearly two weeks unconscious, fighting for his life.

He had scarfed up dinner like a starving man—before consuming a whole cherry pie by himself. Then with a big grin, he rubbed his tummy—and proclaimed it naptime. She had kissed him then, knowing he was still tired, that his body was still healing. She had checked his bandages, before tucking him in, waiting for him to fall asleep.

He had closed his eyes, murmuring mostly nonsense, until she heard his tone change, his deep voice low, and rumbly, and rather earnest too—

“I’ll be dreaming of you proposing to me.”


	33. Hitch

Chapter 32 – Hitch

Max stared at the burner phone, really tempted to throw it at the tree in front of her. She had promised Ilya that she would return for him. They had even agreed on a plan. She just didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave Alec.

She could wait for Natalya to find her, but she would be sacrificing Ilya. Chances were, Natalya already knew the locations of the properties they just bought. Even though Max knew she could defend herself, she didn’t want to put anyone else in danger.

She closed her eyes, the message still echoing in her brain—

“24 hours to respond. Or Ilya dies.”

* * * *

Alec stared at Max, wondering why she was sitting on the porch, completely still. She didn’t even notice the brave squirrel that stopped a few feet in front of her. He frowned, knowing that something was wrong, wondering if she’d tell him.

Max was really good at keeping secrets. Hell, so was he. He’d never told her about his ridiculous coma dream. He didn’t want to. He just wanted to forget Natalya even existed. Though, if he were being honest with himself, he’d rather just end her.

Sighing, he realized that keeping secrets probably wasn’t for the best. Obviously, he had some unresolved feelings when it came to the Russian psycho. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever see her again. Hell, he wasn’t even sure where they were. He only knew that they were in a remote cabin—somewhere.

_So it was time for them to talk. Dammit._

* * * *

Max looked up, startled to see a squirrel in front of her. She frowned, wanting to scare it away, somehow—but all she had was the phone. She smiled then. Maybe she could just toss it … gently? She was sure the creature was fast enough to dodge it—plus maybe the phone would accidentally break.

Her smile faded slowly. She’d given Ilya her word. As much as she wanted the whole ordeal to be over, it just wasn’t. Natalya was still out there, actively looking for them. She was lucky that they’d been able to hide out as long as they had.

She was lucky that Alec didn’t die.

If he had, it would have been a completely different story. She would not be keeping company with a squirrel. She would have killed Natalya already. She would have done so without regret.

By then, she would have given up on the whole idea of redemption.

* * * *

Alec stood up slowly, testing the strength of his legs, surprised to discover he felt good. He didn’t feel wobbly at all. Then he took one step and realized he was being optimistic. The room started spinning on him, like he was still on psychedelic drugs.

He took a deep breath, counting a few seconds, before he tried another step—and another one. Soon he was at the front door, just a few feet from Max. Before he could reach for her, Max was standing up. For some reason, it looked like she was about to attack the squirrel—with her phone?

He yanked the door open, surprising both of them—the squirrel running up the closest tree—and Max freezing, the phone raised above her head. She looked first at him, then the squirrel—before she carefully lowered her arm.

He felt a bit of desperation in Max. Like she wanted to be just like the squirrel and run away. She didn’t look too happy about the interruption, so he wasn’t sure what to expect.

He definitely didn’t expect her to kiss him.

* * * *

She should have heard him. She should have heard the bed creak as soon as he moved. She’d heard nothing. She’d been so focused on the dumb animal, she forgot that Alec was inside, waiting for her.

She stared at him, suddenly breathless. He looked good, like Natalya never destroyed his face or cracked his chest in half. He also looked concerned—probably because he caught her about to attack an unarmed squirrel.

Now he was frowning at her, his gaze switching from her to the squirrel—and back again. He was about to ask the obvious question—and she wasn’t going to answer it. Instead, she closed the distance and yanked him hard. She almost smiled when he stumbled. Instead she caught him, framing his face, taking that perfect mouth of his, first teasing—then kissing him deep.

It was like coming home.

* * * *

Alec worried that he would send them both tumbling to the ground. But Max was ready, her arms steadying him, her hands capturing his face.

Her eyes wide open, she kissed him lightly at first, nibbling on his bottom lip, before he yielded, welcoming her. He pulled her close, letting her control the kiss, enjoying the wildness of it. He didn’t remember Max’s kisses doing this to him. It was almost like he couldn’t breathe.

She broke the kiss then, her thumbs sweeping up his cheekbones, before her fingers laced behind his neck. He dropped his forehead on hers, waiting for her, listening to her heartbeat. When it evened out, he started pulling her inside the cabin.

Max stunned him with one word—

“No.”

* * * *

Max had kissed him, and she forgot that he was still recovering from the beating just two weeks ago. She forgot because he looked like he always did. Like he was happy and full of mischief. She couldn’t even find a bruise on him.

She would have been the one to push him inside the cabin. She had started the kiss. But she heard it again, something she hoped she wouldn’t hear.

The hitch in his breathing.

* * * *

“Max?” Alec stared at her in confusion. “You don’t want me?”

“I do.” He heard the sincerity in her voice. He heard the ache. Then she said something that made no sense at all.

“But you’re not ready for me.”

* * * *

Max watched him step away from her, suddenly stiff, but also hurt. She watched him mask the pain, his green eyes flashing before they became unreadable. 

She winced then, knowing he misunderstood. She wanted him, but she worried about his health. She reached for him then, placing her hand over his heart—and she listened, wondering if she was overreacting. His breathing was a little fast, but he was trying to slow it down. He was trying to match hers.

She heard it again, that little hitch.

“Did you hear that Alec?” This time she stood her ground. “Your lungs are still recovering. We just can’t.”

Max thought that would be enough.

It wasn’t.

* * * *

“That’s some ridiculous shit Max.” Alec growled at her. “If you don’t want me, just say so.”

“I told you—“ She seemed surprised.

He cut her off. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to excuses. “I’m going back inside. You stay here and commune with the animals.”

“Natalya almost killed you!” This time Max raised her voice. “You need time—“

“I’m fine dammit.” Alec was already turning away. He would have slammed the door shut, except Max said one word to stop him.

“Ok.”

* * * *

Max knew he wasn’t expecting her to give in. But she knew how to fight dirty. He didn’t believe her, but he would—soon enough.

She closed the door behind her. Then she leaned against it, studying him, watching the conflict in his eyes. She pushed off the door, taking off her shirt and letting it drop to the floor. “Good thing Cherry went to her sister’s house. We can christen every room in this cabin.” She peeled off her tank top next. She dropped that somewhere. Soon she was only in her bra and jeans.

He was rather quiet now, blinking uncertainly, his hands clenched. She smiled then, knowing his pride had taken a blow when she had rejected him.

“I always want you Alec.” She unzipped her jeans, watching his eyes light up. “You can have me anytime. You just have to breathe for me.” 

She shimmied out of her jeans, before she kicked them off completely. Slowly she stalked toward him, until she was just inches away. She took his hands, forcing them open, linking her fingers through his, watching him with a quiet intensity.

“Touch me.” Max closed her eyes, her voice low. “I’m ready for you. But if I hear a hitch, if you can’t breathe even for a small moment—we stop. And we wait until you’re fully recovered.”

She opened her eyes, needing to see him, needing him to understand.

“Deal?”

* * * *

Alec wasn’t prepared for a nearly naked Max. Just a little bit of black lace here and there—that was all. He lost his brain for a second there, when she started shedding clothes.

He released her hands, cupping her cheeks instead, listening to her sigh. He met her gaze, those brown eyes so expressive, worried about him and loving him all at once. He nodded, agreeing to her terms, ready to prove her wrong, ready to love her just like he always did.

He took that mouth of hers, enjoying her surprise and surrender, savoring her taste. He felt her arms wrap around him, pulling him even closer. He felt her hands slip under his shirt, moving up his back and down again, before they settled on his jeans. Then she was unzipping him, her fingers already sneaking below his waistband. 

Max wasn’t shy when she wanted him. He loved that about her. He loved that she made him crazy. He got a little dizzy then, so he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead on hers, his breath coming in fast.

He felt her hands grab his shirt, pulling it up and over his torso. Then her entire body was pressed against his, all that smooth skin, and his mind went a little haywire. When he tried to remove her bra, he only fumbled with the clasp. When he tried to complain, he only staggered, losing his balance.

He didn’t notice that Max caught him. He only knew one thing.

_He couldn’t breathe._

* * * *

Max held on, supporting the entire weight of Alec. She hated being right. She was hoping that the hitch was just in her imagination.

But now he looked a little grey—and for once, he had failed removing her bra. He was an expert at it. Now he just looked surprised and annoyed.

“I got you.” She murmured, guiding him to the bed. He sat on the edge, leaning forward, hands on his knees, head bowed low—like he was too embarrassed to look at her.

She rubbed his back, listening to his heartbeat (which was too fast) and his breathing (which was uneven). She waited for him, until his breath slowed to normal, until his heartbeat matched hers. She moved her hand, resting on his neck, her fingers on his barcode, loving him without words.

* * * *

“So we won’t be moving furniture?” Alec stared at the floor, unwilling to look at Max. 

“Not yet.” That was all she said.

“That sucks.” He closed his eyes, pissed that Natalya was still plaguing him.

“I agree.” Her fingers skimmed his barcode slowly, back and forth. It was soothing, and he loved when she did that.

“Might as well tell me why you were about to attack the poor squirrel.” Alec sighed, finally looking at Max. “Can’t be any worse, right?”

He watched her smile fade, the brown in her eyes flickering uncertainly, before she said—

“Natalya captured Ilya.”

* * * *

She said the words out loud. She couldn’t take them back. She watched Alec react—or rather, try not to react. She saw a flash of anger—before that disappeared completely. She realized then, that he didn’t understand much of what happened after Natalya took him.

In fact, they hadn’t talked about any of it. Cherry had only just left last night, after Alec fell asleep from dinner. When she was about to lie down next to Alec, when she thought about resting—

She remembered to turn on the burner phone. Exactly at midnight, she did that—but not for long. Ilya knew she’d check messages then. For two weeks, the phone had been silent, with no messages at all.

But last night, the message had come in. She had debated telling Alec about it. Now she had six hours to respond—or let Ilya die.

* * * *

Alec knew Max. She was about to leave him and rescue Ilya by herself. She didn’t know how to tell him, so she thought attacking a squirrel would make her feel better. She was demented and mean, but he loved her anyway.

Also, she wasn’t going on a rescue mission by herself. No way in hell.

So he figured he might as well tell her.

“When do we go?” He narrowed his gaze at her, knowing she was about to have a hissy fit. “Because you weren’t going to leave me here right? What if she found me, alone? I mean, I can’t even stand, much less breathe properly.”

* * * *

“You can’t be serious.” Max sputtered. “You have to stay here.”

“Either we both go.” Alec looked up, actually smiling at her. “Or we both stay.” He pulled at her, so she was standing between his legs.

“I can’t leave Ilya to die.” Max frowned at him. “But I thought about it.” She flinched at her own words, already regretting saying them.

“So we’re going on a rescue mission.” Then she felt Alec’s hands on her hips, pulling her even closer. Now his face was very close to her belly button. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow 0500.” Max whispered, startled to feel his breath on her skin. When she thought he would kiss her, he very gently pushed her away.

“Good night Max.” She watched him get comfortable on the bed, before he turned his back on her. “I need to rest before I kick some Russian ass.” 

Max stood frozen, wondering how she lost control of the conversation.

She didn’t see Alec smile before he drifted off to sleep.


	34. Trophy

Chapter 33 – Trophy

Ilya spit out blood. Natalya’s captain—the one person Max left alive—was entirely too happy to beat him. Still, Ilya could not resist goading the man. “Did your bandy coach forget to give you a trophy for participation?”

He received another blow to the face. He shook his head, narrowing his eyes, wondering at something simple—and very curious.

“How are you not dead? Rybka killed everyone but you?”

* * * *

Natalya stopped pacing, staring instead at Ilya. Mischa had been captain of his bandy team. He had been an exceptional player. The team had even won the World Cup once. She still had the trophy in her apartment. It was a huge, ugly thing, all silver and shiny. 

Most people called it Russian ice hockey. It was just a sport that Mischa had loved, until he joined the seminary anyway. She should have given the trophy to another teammate. Instead she had yet another reminder that Mischa should be alive, enjoying life.

She felt the rage simmering in her. She had betrayed her own boss, a man who always treated her with respect. Now it all hinged on a simple phone call. She touched the rosary beads around her neck. Max would call. She had to.

* * * *

Alec stared at the apartments in front of him. Then he scanned the empty parking lot, looking for anything remotely interesting. He found nothing.

“Feels empty.” Alec narrowed his eyes. “Your tracker is transmitting from there.” He pointed to the building in front of them.

“But this shows nothing.” He waved the infrared camera at her. “No life signs anywhere. Either this fancy gadget is broken—”

He switched off the camera. “Or Ilya is compromised.”

He raised an eyebrow at one more possibility.

“Or dead.” 

* * * *

Max stepped away, needing a little space, even though he would hear everything anyway. She pulled out a new burner phone and dialed Ilya’s number. It rang only once, before Natalya’s voice came on the line.

“Kotik! Thank you for calling.” Natalya sounded rather calm—but excited as well. It was an odd combination. “Ilya was getting restless, thinking you forgot him.”

“I need proof of life.” Max cut in, unwilling to listen to anymore. “Or we’re done.”

“Of course.” She heard a bit of rustling, when the phone changed hands. Then she heard Ilya’s voice, and he got right to the point—

“Rybka. Please bring Godiva chocolate for me. Natalya does not feed me during this time.” 

* * * *

Alec heard the entire conversation. He knew when Natalya snatched the phone from Ilya, declaring him an imbecile. He knew when someone hit Ilya because he heard the blow. He knew when Natalya got suspicious—because she repeated the terms for the Ilya’s life—and Max said nothing.

She had only pulled the phone away from her face, staring at it without speaking. Then she had raised her eyes to Alec—and he saw the distress she tried to hide. Before he could ask her anything, she raised her hand, silencing him.

“Tomorrow noon Natalya.” Then she hung up the phone and gave it to him. Before he could say anything, she was already turning away from him, walking out of the parking lot. 

She stopped in front of her bike, frozen, like she couldn’t decide what to do. 

He moved then, pulling her against him, her back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, listening to her uneven breathing. Her heart was racing, but she clutched at his hands, leaning against him. He kissed the top of her head, and she shuddered, answering a question he never asked—

“He called off the rescue.” 

* * * *

Ilya winced at the new cut on his cheek, courtesy of Sergei, who knew entirely too many ways to cause pain. He felt the blood trickle down his skin, and he wondered if Max would heed the warning and stay away.

Then he tried to smile—but even that hurt. His lips were cracked and dry—and still raw from the last time Sergei punched his face.

Max would do whatever she wanted. That was always the fun thing about Max. She was never the predictable little soldier.

That was also the dangerous thing about Max. 

She liked when the odds were against her.

* * * *

Natalya allowed herself a small smile. She held all the cards. She had Ilya—and she had access to his personal computer. She knew the location of each new property. She made it clear that she would hunt them both down—and kill everyone in her way—until she finally avenged her brother.

She closed her eyes, missing the sudden smile from Ilya, his bloody lips not pretty at all.

* * * *

“Perfect. Let’s go.” Alec was relieved. If Ilya had everything under control, then why stay?

But Max was silent. Now she was staring at the building like she wanted to go in. Before she took that step, he decided to distract her.

“Also, we need a new location for you to propose. We’ll cross the Golden Gate, but I don’t have good memories of this city.”

* * * *

Max took a deep breath, shaking free of Ilya’s sudden proclamation. She would not leave him behind. She would find a way to get him out. She was going to end this once and for all.

She walked away from Alec, toward the building, toward Ilya’s tracker. She was going to check the basement for clues. But first she would take that elevator when she first spotted Natalya in the hallway. She needed to see where it led. If anything, she was sure she’d find the control room to all the cameras surrounding the perimeter.

“I’m missing something Alec.” She kicked the back door open. “You got my back?”

* * * *

“It’s like you don’t listen to me.” Alec rubbed his face. “Of course I got your back. But you’re about to propose to me—and not in this terrible place where Natalya tortured me.”

Max surprised him then—yanking him by the shirt, planting a wild kiss on him. She must have heard the damn hitch again—because she pulled away, breathing hard, her eyes sweeping over him. Then her eyes lit up, and she smiled slowly.

She leaned against the door, barely in the hallway.

“Ok.”

* * * *

Max watched Alec frown before he realized what just happened. It took a moment before his beautiful green eyes flashed with surprise then horror.

“No, no, no.” He shook his head, already denying what he just heard. “You cannot propose with just one word.” Then he gestured to the building they had yet to fully enter. “And not here!”

He picked her up and placed her outside. “I’m point. You’re just in my way.” He took a few steps inside, pausing in the hallway.

“You get one do-over!” Then he was already walking away, muttering to himself. “That was the worst proposal yet.”

He heard Max close the main door, just before she yelled at him—

“For the record, you rejected me right?”

* * * *

The woman was too much. What kind of proposal was that anyway? Alec resisted the urge to punch the nearest wall. Before he could even open the basement door, Max was already passing him. Apparently she was heading for the elevator, and she forgot to tell him.

“Seriously Max.” Alec sighed. “Why bother going upstairs? Let’s just find the tracker and go.”

“Later.” Max stabbed at the elevator button repeatedly—like that would make the elevator arrive sooner. “She went upstairs when she left you. Something important is here. I just have to find it.”

“Slow down.” He pulled her away from the elevator. “For all we know, the damn thing is rigged.”

Max froze as the doors slid open, waiting for her. She blinked, staring at the mirrored walls inside the elevator. She met his eyes in the mirror then—and maybe she saw his concern—or she regretted that pathetic proposal. Whatever it was, Alec didn’t care. Max only nodded and let him lead her toward the stairwell instead.

* * * *

The stairs were a better option, but Max would never admit that to Alec. If anything, she made him check each floor with her—before they reached the top. She smiled when Alec grumbled at every new floor.

“These apartments are empty.” Alec closed the last door before he pointed to the ceiling. “One more floor, then it’s the roof.”

Max only nodded, wondering what he would do if she proposed rooftop. It had an element of surprise, didn’t it? Would it be romantic?

She glanced at Alec, who was leading the way to the last apartment. This final floor was different than all the others. It was more finished. It even had wallpaper. She watched him pick the lock to the front door and slowly push it open. She waited for him to sigh in disappointment like he did with all the other apartments. 

He whistled instead. “Jackpot.”

* * * *

Alec stepped through first, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The entire space was upscale—and very, very white. The carpet, the sofa, the chairs, the walls—everything was a pure, blinding white. 

Except for the tiny blood drops on the floor—and even the sofa. It was odd that Natalya would leave that untouched—almost like she didn’t want to clean the blood stains. He watched Max carefully step over the blood splatters on the floor. She even stared at the sofa for a long moment, like she wanted to say something.

She walked by him, and in a flat tone, she said—

“That’s your blood Alec.”

* * * *

Max headed straight for the bedroom. The door was already open—and the room was just as white as the rest of the apartment. The only thing that stood out was a massive silver trophy on the dresser. It had ornate handles, a domed lid—and a wooden base with words etched in Russian.

She would bet everything she had it belonged to Natalya’s brother. Natalya did not seem the sporty type. Not unless killing counted. In which case, she would need more than one lousy trophy.

She stared at a jeweled knife beside the trophy. The tip had broken off, but the sapphires were intact. Neither the trophy nor the knife belonged in the room. They were opposite Natalya’s minimalist style.

She entered the walk-in closet, thinking it would be full of expensive clothes and shoes. It was. Except that everything was scattered, the space a total wreck. Broken shelves littered the floor—along with fancy shoes and designer bags. Clothes were everywhere, on every surface, mostly in random piles.

Only one thing was hanging in the closet.

It was a white pantsuit, stained in Alec’s blood.

* * * *

Alec stared at his wanted poster from Seattle. He remembered being arrested. He remembered that Max almost left him in jail. Even she had believed him guilty—until she realized that it was Ben committing the murders. 

He remembered when Manticore isolated him, punishing him for Ben’s mistakes. It was not enough. It was never enough. Years later, he was still paying the price.

Sighing, he focused on the monitors in front of him, the security cameras panning the outside—as well as each floor. One camera in particular was focused on a radiator, and he knew that was the basement.

A movement flickered on a monitor, catching his attention. A black van pulled into the parking lot. They were about to have company.

* * * *

Max stared at Alec’s blood, still vivid against the stark white of the suit. The top of the pantsuit was immaculate, but from the waist down, it was stained with Alec’s blood, a dull obscene brown. 

She stepped closer, her gaze sweeping over the pantsuit. She froze when she noticed exactly one shoebox on the bottom shelf. She kneeled in front of it, lifting the lid, unprepared for the horror inside.

* * * *

Alec wiped the hard drives, erasing all recordings that showed them breaking into the building. He watched the screen in front of him, the one trained on the parking lot. He counted two guards by the door—and two more were patrolling the perimeter. No one had tried to enter the building yet.

He called Max, expecting her to rush into the office.

He got nothing but silence.

* * * *

It wasn’t a pair of shoes.

The box contained the hand wraps, a sick shade of pink, tightly rolled up—stained with more of Alec’s blood. Underneath the hand wraps, Max spotted an old piece of technology. It looked like a laptop, but smaller and heavier.

She picked it up and slowly opened it. The device started up immediately, the display bright and clear. It showed an empty room. It meant nothing to her, until she saw the radiator.

She caught her breath, realizing she was holding a portable video player. She pushed the fast forward button—until Alec was on the screen. Then she watched Natalya advance on Alec, swinging at him, furious that he stopped her.

She saw Alec smirk, but she saw him widen his eyes, like he was trying to stay awake. The volume was on low, but she heard his voice still cocky, still confident—egging Natalya on. Anyone else would have shut up already, but not Alec. Not even when Natalya rained blows on Alec. She hit so hard, his eye was soon swollen shut. His lips were bleeding. Hell, his entire face was bleeding.

Natalya was relentless. When she got tired of his face, she attacked his body, repeatedly going for his ribs, like she wanted to break every single one. It was a stupidly one-sided fight.

Max didn’t feel the tears streaming down her face. She didn’t hear Alec calling her name. Suddenly, she was in his arms, off the floor, away from the video.

“Your blood’s not enough.” Shuddering, she tried to breathe away the panic, the dread, the realization. “She wants you for her trophy.”


	35. Savage

Chapter 34 – Savage

Alec wrapped his arms around Max, even though they were running out of time. Soon that door was going to burst open—and some very angry Russians would have fun killing them.

“They’re here.” He cupped her face. “We can go through the fire escape. But we have to leave now.”

He started pulling her toward the closest window. He even opened it, about to step onto the balcony. But Max squeezed his hand, forcing him to stop.

Startled, he glanced at her, only to realize that Max had that look on her face. The same look when they all should have gone into hiding—but had stayed to defend Terminal City. The one that said—

_Fuck no. We’re not leaving. We do this now._

* * * *

Max wiped her tears, irritated to find her cheeks wet. She stared at Alec, knowing that he was right. The safest thing was to retreat.

But Max never operated in the safe zone. If anything, she always gravitated toward the more dangerous side of things. Which unfortunately meant the risk of death was infinitely higher.

“She doesn’t know we’re here. How much time do we have?” She stared at Alec, hoping he wouldn’t shut her down, hoping he would hear her out.

* * * *

“Not much Max.” He looked at his watch. “Three or four minutes, tops. The second van just pulled in when I called you.”

He sighed, knowing that Max wasn’t about to budge. “What’s the play?”

He leaned over the balcony slowly. “They’re still down there. But they’re moving Ilya.”

Max was silent, and Alec lost patience. “Speak up woman. I’m about to haul your ass out of here, whether you like it or not.”

* * * *

Sergei walked around the building, checking in with the perimeter guards, his gaze sweeping the surrounding area. He looked up the side of the building, suddenly focused on the top floor. Was that window always open?

“Move now.” He nodded to the guards holding Ilya, who was looking a little defeated. That made Sergei smile.

He entered first, raising his hand in silence. Everyone behind him froze, waiting for his next command.

Something was off. He could feel it.

* * * *

Alec adjusted to the darkness in the basement. He located the circuit breaker panel, right behind a tall shelf. Carefully, he shifted the furniture just enough, so that he had some cover from the inevitable bullets. Then he opened the panel, identifying the main breaker switch. He was ready.

He and Max could fight in the dark. They just had to be faster than the bullets.

* * * *

Ilya tripped when they shoved him inside the room. “This blindfold is unnecessary.”

Strong hands steadied him, quickly removing the blindfold from his face. He was surprised to see it was Natalya. He was more surprised when she spoke to him. Since she had captured him, she had ignored him.

“I regret it has come to this.” She even sighed for his benefit. “You are nothing but collateral damage.”

But Ilya heard what she did not say. Regardless of the outcome, Ilya was a dead man.

* * * *

Max leaned against the wall, in the camera’s blind spot, blending with the shadows. She dismissed each guard that entered the room. None of these guards was the driver assigned to kill Cherry. Maybe the captain was upstairs, checking the penthouse. 

She hoped so. She had left him a little present.

* * * *

Sergei stepped into the penthouse, surveying the open space. Everything looked untouched. He walked into the office next, sweeping the room, studying the monitors. Split screens showed the perimeter guards as well as the guards at the main entrance.

The individual cameras for each floor showed nothing interesting, just as he expected. The basement camera showed Natalya walking around Ilya, just before she waved to one guard, implying that Ilya needed to be restrained.

Everything seemed right. But something felt wrong. 

He pulled up the footage from an hour ago.

He found none.

* * * *

Alec hated this plan. Max would be out in the open—an easy target yet again. And what if he cut the lights at the wrong time? 

His eyes narrowed as he counted four guards. The guards were spread out in the room. One was near Max. One was by the door. Two were with Natalya. He and Max could take out everyone in the room without problem. It was just a matter of the wandering guards outside … and where was the captain?

* * * *

Sergei frowned at the monitors. The footage was definitely missing—or erased. Either way, they had been breached. He stepped out of the office, picking up the radio, about to call it in—when he found himself staring at a closed bedroom door.

He had deliberately left that door open. He left all doors open in the apartment. The only thing that should have been closed was that window, the one that led to the fire escape. He pulled out his weapon, kicking that door open, expecting an assailant on the other side.

He found no one.

Then he walked into the master closet, the one place that Natalya had spent entirely too much time. It was a mess, as it had been for weeks. But someone else had been here recently, that much he knew.

The white pantsuit was no longer hanging in the closet. It was draped over a pile of clothes, like an expensive tablecloth. On top of the pantsuit, on top of the dried blood—was something that should not be. The shoebox was proudly displayed—secured with pink hand wraps, a giant bow just waiting to be untied.

He knew better than to open the box. But it was too late. Just opening the bedroom door had triggered the timer. It had given him exactly five minutes to live—before he died.

But Sergei knew none of that. He was too busy opening the box, throwing the hand wraps on the floor. He could have had an extra two minutes of life, if he had left the box alone, if he had left the video player untouched. But he flipped open the lid, hearing the device start up, wondering why it sounded different—

Until he wondered no more.

* * * *

Natalya staggered when the entire building shook. It sounded like an explosion. She reached for her radio, needing to check in with Sergei. In fact, he should have checked in already.

But the basement went pitch black, and the guards started yelling—until just as quickly, silence descended. The lights flickered back on—and Natalya found herself staring at a very solemn Max.

She looked around the room, seeing three of her guards down, all of them with knives protruding from their throats. The last guard was in front of Max, his neck at an odd angle. She still had her guards outside. They would know to enter soon. Sergei as well.

All was not lost. She still had the upper hand. Max was only one girl. One very stupid, careless girl.

“You are early.” Natalya smiled in welcome. “Always a pleasure to see you, kotik.”

* * * *

Alec winced when the door started to open. Natalya wasn’t worried because she had more warm bodies about to join the party.

Waiting was the hard part. He needed to know exactly how many hostiles would be inside before he flipped the breaker. He needed to know exact positions.

He needed to be ready because, dammit, he counted six new bodies in the basement. He had a clean shot to everyone except the last guard. He’d have to step out of hiding for the final kill. He hoped to hell that Natalya didn’t have backup for her backup.

His face alone was going to send Natalya into a tailspin.

* * * *

Natalya waved the new guards inside. 

“You didn’t think it would be so easy?” She clapped her hands. One of the guards immediately seized Ilya, shoving a gun to his temple.

“Where is he?” Natalya walked right up to Max, unafraid. “Where is that murderer you are protecting?”

Max only raised an eyebrow at her.

“You don’t think I am serious?” Natalya turned away, walking to the desk, pulling out a folder. “These are the locations. These are your accounts. I have all your information.” 

She allowed Max to thumb through the documents. She waited until Max looked up, her brown eyes unreadable.

“Where is he?” Natalya leaned into her space. “I will not ask again.”

* * * *

Alec was done waiting. 

_He was done hiding._

He flipped the breaker, hearing the commotion, ignoring all of it. His aim was true. He hit all five guards in the dark. Then he flipped the switch back on, blurring to the door, exposing himself, taking the final shot.

The guard moved, the bullet finding his shoulder instead. Not that it mattered. Alec was already on him, firing an extra bullet in his head. Then he walked around to all the bodies littering the floor, kicking a few, confirming the kills.

He fired extra shots into Max’s kills, mostly because they didn’t look dead enough.

Then he turned to Natalya and smiled. “You miss me?”

* * * *

Ilya had closed his eyes when the bullets started flying. He didn’t understand the flickering lights, and he didn’t care.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at Max, just across the room, looking bored, like the sudden demise of all the guards had nothing to do with her.

Natalya was posturing of course, buying time, waiting for the other guards to enter the room. He saw the door open, but more than that, he thought he saw movement in the dark corner. He focused in that area, wondering if he was seeing things, before the room went dark again.

He kept his eyes open, seeing the bright muzzle flash, hearing the sound of death all around him. The guard holding the gun to his head slumped against him, making Ilya fall to his knees. He groaned as he hit the floor.

Then he heard a deep voice, and he knew that Natalya would die today.

* * * *

Natalya had dreamt of him for weeks, when she tried to sleep, when she tried to stay awake. All she saw was his face, bloody and broken—and nearly dead. It was the only thing to comfort her—to know that she would be able to finish the job.

Today, his face was without a blemish, like she had never touched him, like she hadn’t almost killed him. She forgot about Max, immediately walking toward him.

She stopped just a few feet away, taking in his raw beauty, hating every bit of it. She met his gaze, his cold green eyes, and for the first time, she felt doubt. Sergei would be here soon. He would have a plan.

Her gaze shifted toward the door, willing it to open. It did not.

Then he spoke, and she forgot how much she detested his voice, the deepness of it, the innate arrogance. She looked at him, forcing a calm she did not feel, even when he leaned in to whisper—

“Your captain is dead. I’m sorry for your loss.”

* * * *

Max watched Natalya stare at Alec in disbelief. She saw her recoil at his voice, especially when he decided to offer condolences. Then she saw Natalya shift just slightly, her fist ready, like she could take Alec on.

She should have let her try.

Alec was waiting for the next move. He wanted Natalya to come at him. But Max wasn’t going to be a spectator today. Everything unfolding now was her fault. She brought Alec to San Francisco. She should have stayed gone. She knew how dangerous the city was. She knew how dangerous the people were.

She should have known better. Today she would make it right.

With a simple word, she stopped them both—

“Don’t.”

* * * *

Alec hated this part of the plan. He wasn’t even sure he’d agreed to it. He growled but didn’t break eye contact with Natalya. He stepped away, toward Ilya, hauling the man off the floor.

He didn’t want Max hurt. Natalya was taller and bigger than Max. He would bet anything that Natalya had more experience killing. She was also obsessed with finding vengeance. She wasn’t going to forgive anyone for her dead brother.

Alec forgot that it was Max that pulled him out of the basement. That it was Max who found him in a bloody heap. That Max wasn’t going to forgive anyone either.

He forgot because Max was already blurring toward Natalya.

* * * *

Max threw a right hook, aiming for her face, smiling when her fist connected. Then she stepped back, but not far enough, letting Natalya get a good hit in. Max winced, the pain radiating across her cheekbone. Natalya was so elated that she didn’t notice Max take a quick swipe at her thigh, the knife blurring so fast, practically invisible.

Then Max tackled her, Natalya losing her balance, landing on her back. Max straddled her, thighs against hers, applying pressure on the wound.

Max placed a hand against Natalya’s throat, watching the surprise flicker in her pale blue eyes. “Shhh. Don’t move.”

She waited for the regret to sink in, knowing that Natalya didn’t have long. But the video was playing in her mind, Natalya slamming her fists in Alec, his face, his body, repeatedly—until he was a bloody and broken mess. Every scene was vivid in her mind.

Regret escaped her. Natalya would pay. That was all she knew.

* * * *

Natalya knew the speed of Max, but to experience it first hand? She was not prepared. She had punched Max in her lovely face, practically breaking her knuckles. Now she was flat on her back?

For some reason, Max was actually sitting on her, almost like she was riding her—except that she was about to choke her, she was sure of it. And what was that odd throbbing pain on her leg? It would come and go, so was she was imagining it?

She had never felt so weak in her life. She looked into Max’s eyes, wondering if she would see any doubt, any hesitation.

All she saw was death.

* * * *

“I’m sorry about your brother.” Max leaned down, smoothing some hair out of Natalya’s face.

“You would protect that monster?” Natalya managed to spit out, despite her labored breath. “My brother was innocent!”

“Alec did not kill him.” Max shook her head. “It was his … twin brother Ben.”

But Natalya heard the hesitation. “You lie!” Then slowly, she placed a hand on Max’s arm, her voice usually so strong, now feeble. “No more lies kotik.”

“No more lies.” Max nodded. “Ben loved the Blue Lady. You call her Mary.”

“The Blessed Mother Mary?” Natalya whispered.

“He took lives. To appease the Blue Lady.” Max continued, feeling the weak pulse, hearing the heartbeat slow down.

“Mischa believed the Blessed Mother saved us.” Natalya could barely speak.

Max leaned down, until she was nose to nose with her. “I killed Ben.” She let Natalya see her pain. “I loved him.”

“One kiss kotik?” Natalya murmured, like a lover’s request. 

“Goodbye Natalya.” She brushed a soft kiss across her mouth. Then she eased pressure on Natalya’s thighs, watching her life ebb away.

The cut on her femoral artery, Natalya never felt. But when Max shifted just enough, the blood flowed.

* * * *

Alec listened to Natalya’s heart slow down, until it stopped completely. He watched Max lean down, kiss her good bye—before she wiped her knife on Natalya’s leg.

He pulled Max up, knowing she was still deep in the kill. He needed her to come back—to not dwell in that darkness.

“That was savage Max.” He saw her blink surprise at him. “But what a way to go.”

This time Max frowned, not understanding him at all.

“That’s how I want to die.” His voice deepened. “Between your legs.”

He watched her eyes widen, before she kicked his shin, then dropped her head on his chest. He didn’t even flinch. 

He would take all the bruises, as long as Max kept fighting. As long as she remembered that life was more than death.

He held on, savoring the feel of Max against him. The fight was over—for today at least.

It was a small victory, but he would take it. He would revel in it.


	36. Vision

Chapter 35 – Vision

Ilya had left his homeland at a young age, defying the odds, building an empire before he was even 21. He hadn’t expected to survive as long as he had—but he did.

When he should have died years ago, Max had appeared out of nowhere, unexpectedly rescuing him. He had made the mistake of closing his eyes back then—so he’d never seen her fight. Today, he watched her take Natalya’s life without hesitation. She had been ruthless, unforgiving, efficient—just like her handler said.

Her darkness was a thing of beauty, something to embrace. She killed, but she also saved. 

She didn’t look it though. When he first met her, she was a vision in black. She was clad in a leather vest, tight pants, and boots. Today it was essentially the same outfit, except for the leather jacket and jeans.

It was like she was allergic to color. Maybe he couldn’t change that about her, but he could change it for one day. She would never buy anything so frivolous for herself—even though any other woman would consider it a necessity.

He hoped that she would enjoy the small gift he left for her. 

She would be a vision in white.

* * * *

Max dropped her knife when Alec pulled her up. She almost protested, but she took a deep breath instead, his scent surprising her, seeping into her soul, comforting her. She felt a strange calm wash over her, allowing Natalya’s death to fade away.

She shuddered against him, exhausted, ready to leave San Francisco. Ready to let go of her past.

* * * *

Alec watched Ilya struggle to stand, struggle to walk. His legs were shaky, but he was stubborn, taking a small step, then another. He didn’t see the spent casing on the floor. His foot landed on it, his ankle twisting. He must have made some noise because Max was already pulling away.

* * * *

Ilya lost his balance, falling awkwardly, landing on his side. He winced from the pain, shaking his head, like that would erase his pathetic attempt at walking.

He wondered if he had chosen the right size for Max. He would bet money that his selection for Alec was perfect.

Carefully he shifted, knowing that someone was watching him. He looked up, surprised that it was Alec, his glorious green eyes unblinking.

But it was Max moving toward him, helping him up, just like she did all those years ago.

* * * *

“She knocked the pretty off you too.” Max studied the bruises and open cuts on his face. “You might even get a new scar out of it.”

Ilya actually snorted at her. “I do not need more mystery, rybka.”

Then Max was staring at his bare feet. “What happened to your shoes?” She waved a hand over his body. “Why are you wearing that?”

He pointed to his pile of clothes. “She made me put this jumpsuit on.” He shuddered. “It is regrettable. No one looks good in this orange.”

“Your tracker?” Max bent over the discarded clothes. “It wasn’t on you.”

“In my shoe.” Ilya sighed. “I tried to warn you.”

Before she could respond, Alec was already laughing.

* * * *

“Max is allergic to warnings.” Alec snickered. “Also, she has this misguided idea of redemption. She was going to save you where you liked it or not.”

He had never discussed it with Max, her needing some kind of redemption. He sure as hell wasn’t expecting the words to fall out of his mouth so easily. Definitely not in front of Ilya either.

But he couldn’t undo it, and he wasn’t even sure he’d want to. It was something that weighed on him, ever since he’d found Max on death row. He tried to ignore it, the constant worry that Max would find some new way to punish herself.

So he stood there, waiting for Max to explode, waiting for Ilya to defend her. He got neither.

* * * *

Max froze when she heard Alec. She closed her eyes then, hating to hear the words spoken out loud. The last person who had confronted her was Cindy. 

She had hoped not to discuss any of it with Alec. But he’d figured it out. Even when she wanted to pretend that everything was ok, he still knew that _she_ wasn’t ok. That all her mistakes weighed on her. That she should know better, but here she was—killing yet again.

Max opened her eyes, surprised to find Ilya watching, surprised even more when he spoke.

* * * *

“You still seek redemption, rybka?” Ilya picked up his Italian penny loafers, extracting a flat silver object from one shoe.

“Why?” Ilya carefully reached out to her, taking her hands in his, pressing the object against her palm. 

Max said nothing. She only stared at their joined hands.

“You have nothing to prove.” He watched her close her eyes. “We cannot change the circumstances that put us here.”

“But we can improve life around us.” She finally opened her eyes, the deep brown unreadable.

“You see value in me—even when most do not.” Ilya knew that Max was stubborn in her silence. But she was hearing him. She was about to crush the small bones in his hands. 

He released her hands, pulling her close instead, ignoring Alec’s disapproval.

“You did not have to come back. But you did.” Then he whispered words he hardly ever used.

“Thank you.”

* * * *

Her breath caught, the unknown object in her hand forgotten. There was kindness in Ilya, something he worked hard to hide. But today he would hold her—offer comfort—even if they weren’t alone. 

But when he leaned in, when he whispered those words, she understood what he meant. What he wasn’t saying out loud.

He knew that she wasn’t coming back to San Francisco.

He was bidding her farewell.

* * * *

Alec raised an eyebrow, surprised that Max allowed Ilya to pull her in, surprised more when she hugged him back. He wasn’t ever going to understand their relationship. But he knew he was done watching them.

He clapped his hands, startling them both. They broke apart, staring at him, like he was rude to interrupt them. Whatever. He wasn’t planning to stay here forever.

“Ilya, will you clean this up?” He gestured at the bodies scattered in the basement. “Max is about to propose to me, and I want to be far, far away from San Francisco when that happens.”

He smiled when Max opened her mouth, only to close it again. Ilya didn’t seem surprised though. In fact, he looked positively smug.

* * * *

“Unit 811.” Ilya stared at Max, wondering if she remembered. Then he smiled, knowing that Max would only go if she felt like it. “Be happy.”

He turned to Alec then, extending his hand. “Congratulations. You are a lucky man.”

Ilya wasn’t prepared for Alec’s beauty then. He beamed, flashing a perfect smile, his green eyes lighting up with joy.

“I am lucky.” Alec shook his hand enthusiastically, winking at him. “Max is a unique creature unlike any other.”

* * * *

Max gasped. Did he just—

She pushed Ilya out of the way, smacking Alec upside the head, before she crossed her arms in front of her chest. That should have been enough. So why was Alec trying not to laugh?

Even worse, he wasn’t even looking at her. He was rubbing the back of his head, but he was facing Ilya. In fact, they had both lapsed into Russian, ignoring her, in some animated discussion. She narrowed her eyes, plotting her next move.

Then she realized she didn’t care. She only knew one thing, and she might as well tell them both.

“For the record, I am not proposing. Alec is.”

Then she huffed and stomped away.

* * * *

Ilya winced when Max slammed the door behind her. He thought Alec would go chasing after her, but he only stared at her, thoughtful.

“Where is she going?” Ilya frowned when he spotted Max in the parking lot. 

Alec smirked at him then, patting his jacket pocket. “Nowhere.” Then he winked before he followed her out. “I have her keys. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Ilya laughed unexpectedly. “Good luck. I wish you all the best.” Then he got quiet, almost saying nothing, knowing Max would not like it.

“You will keep her safe?” Ilya waited, hoping for a reply.

But Alec stopped at the door, hearing him, turning around. 

“Always.” Alec nodded. “Max is my everything.”

* * * *

Max jammed the wrong key into her ignition. She stared at the unfamiliar key, like it would magically transform to fit the Ninja. She frowned, studying the key, knowing it was for a storage unit in Sausalito. She wasn’t supposed to know about Ilya’s stashes, but he was right. She knew all his locations. She just ignored it because she preferred it that way.

She checked her jeans, and she checked her jacket. All her pockets came up empty. Then she reached underneath the frame, right by the grab handle, and she touched the rare earth magnet. But her key was not attached to it.

She sighed, remembering that she gave that key to Teddy. After that, she had lost track of it. Good thing she had yet another spare key. She just didn’t feel like disassembling the taillight housing though.

Not that she needed to. She knew Alec was nearby, before she even looked up, before she even saw his smirk. 

She knew because the fool was whistling.

* * * *

“Hey Maxie.” Alec twirled her keys in front of her. “Do we have time for doughnuts before you propose?”

He expected her to lunge at him—or yell at him—or otherwise try to clobber him. She did none of those things. She just sat on her bike, staring at him like he was a lunatic.

Then slowly, she extended her hand, palm up, waiting for her keys to fall from the sky. She looked at him steadily, calmly, saying nothing.

It was a bit eerie seeing Max so quiet. He raised an eyebrow, and so did she.

Then he sighed, realizing that he didn’t want to get into a staring contest with her. Shark DNA probably meant that she had to blink never.

He dropped the keys in her hand, stepping back quickly, just in case she decided to launch herself at him anyway. But she surprised him, smiling instead, saying a few simple words—

“Doughnuts in Sausalito. You can propose to me there.”

* * * *

Max sped through Highway 101, Alec right by her side. She signaled to Alec, leading the way, exiting the freeway, winding through quaint streets downtown. She took a right turn, slowing down, until she finally cut the engine.

She glanced around the storage facility, the grey and blue colors dismal and boring—and seriously lacking any kind of security. She walked by a few units, until she was standing in front of the only one with a new padlock. She was about to insert the key when she heard Alec grumbling.

“This does not look like a doughnut shop at all.”

* * * *

Max was just mean. She knew about his newfound love for doughnuts—and now they were here? What exactly could she have kept from years ago? As far as he knew, Max traveled light. She carried everything in that raggedy backpack of hers.

She ignored him, focusing on the padlock, rolling the door open. When he thought she would step inside, she didn’t. She turned around, pulling him close, planting a wild kiss on him. Then she was talking, and it might have been important, but Alec heard nothing.

He only knew that he wanted Max, so he reached for her, needing to taste her again.

* * * *

Startled, Max responded, automatically kissing him back, forgetting what she’d been saying. She didn’t notice her jacket falling to the ground. She didn’t notice the cold air on her skin when her shirt disappeared.

She forgot that they were in a decrepit storage facility. She forgot everything except Alec. She loved his hands on her. She loved his mouth on her. 

She loved everything except that hitch she heard.

She wasn’t up to a confrontation. So she hoped the storage unit would be distracting enough. She broke the kiss, pulling away, but not letting go.

“Five minutes Alec. If you don’t want anything here, then we leave. The doughnut shop is just down the block.”

* * * *

Goddammit. He knew why she ended the kiss, and all it did was piss him off. He hadn’t heard the hitch at all. He had a hard time hearing anything when he just couldn’t breathe. When his vision went sideways, even with his eyes closed. He didn’t even know how that was possible, but he saw stars behind his eyelids, and he was going to fake it—

_But Max knew._

She always knew when he was in trouble.

So he held onto her, enjoying the feel of her body against his, wondering when he’d lost his shirt. He didn’t remember taking the shirt off. So Max must have done it then.

That simple fact made him smile. She still wanted him, and that was enough.

He leaned his forehead on hers, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down, to match hers. His breathing evened out, and that was all he could do.

He looked at her, prepared to make some idiotic comment, but the contents of the storage unit were in full view. He was not impressed.

It was yet another black van.

* * * *

Max ignored the van, too distracted by a white dress hanging against the far wall. She walked inside the unit, until she was standing right in front of it, mesmerized by the sheer beauty of it.

The design was simple, but luxurious, the silk smooth, the chiffon a light layer on top. Tiny pearls edged the sweetheart neckline, innocent it seemed, until Max touched the skirt, finding a side slit, a really high one.

She didn’t hear Alec come up behind her. She only felt his arms wrap around her, his chin resting on her head. She let go of the dress, leaning against him, even when he said—

“You’ll be a vision Max. Now if only you’d propose.”


	37. Challenge

Chapter 36 – Challenge

Alec sighed. The woman was stubborn. She was staring at a wedding dress of all things—and now she was silent? Exactly how many clues did she need?

Before he could complain, Max was pointing to a garment hanging next to the dress. He didn’t notice because he didn’t care. Then he realized that it was a tuxedo. He let go of Max so that he could take a closer look. The fabric, the cut, the style—all of it reeked elegance. 

It would be a perfect fit. Even Alec could tell, and he hadn't tried it on yet. While he admired the finery in front of him, he realized that something was missing. He blinked, his gaze switching between the tuxedo and the wedding dress.

“Do you see any shoes to go with these fancy duds?”

* * * *

Max laughed. “I really don’t.”

Then Alec actually looked disappointed, and she patted his back reassuringly.

“I’ll just wear my combat boots.” She watched his eyes widen in horror. “I’ll be a vision, right?”

He backed away, his hands up. “Don’t do it. I’m not telling the kids you proposed in a dreary storage unit.”

Then he grumbled. “I should be eating doughnuts.”

* * * *

Loving Max was a challenge. He stomped away from her, needing some distance, wondering why it was never easy, knowing that he wouldn’t change a thing. He loved Max despite all her craziness, despite her cruel streak, despite her insecurities. 

He looked up at the overcast sky, wanting to be done with California. Wanting his body to heal. Wanting a little bit of happiness with Max. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

He turned back to her, prepared to give up the doughnuts, when he it finally dawned on him—

_Why park a van inside a storage unit?_

He eyed the van, really wanting to yank the doors open. But he’d been thrown into enough black vans to be wary. If anything, he was afraid of what would be inside.

So he did the next logical thing. He bent down, scanning the undercarriage, looking for anything suspicious. He found a dead rat. He frowned, slowly straightening, before opening the back doors, unprepared for the sight.

_Holy fuck._

* * * *

Max sighed, her fingers lingering on the soft silk of the dress, the chiffon ethereal. It really was beautiful. Just—she never had the goal of getting married. She only ever wanted to survive.

But Alec had changed everything. He was teasing her, sure—but she heard what he wasn’t saying. He really wanted a family. It wasn’t a big joke to him at all. Alec was serious about getting married and having children.

Max was the opposite. She was terrified of children. She was afraid she’d mess them up. He already knew that she was terrified of loving him. That he would just get hurt, over and over.

He wanted her anyway. If anything, he seemed to love her more.

* * * *

“Max!” Alec counted the wooden crates in front of him. He whistled when he pried one open, startled by the collection of assault rifles. He found an assortment of grenades in the next box. He would hide that from Max. He opened another crate, only to slam it shut. That one had rocket launchers in it.

Best not to give Max ideas.

Damn, they had their own weapons armory—but on wheels.

Before he could say anything, he heard Max come up behind him. He was expecting any other comment except the one she gave him—

“Why would Ilya do this?”

* * * *

_Was she serious?_

“He’s an arms dealer.” Alec sighed in exasperation. “You should know this Max.”

Max just waved her hands at the van. “Duh. But he knows I don’t use this stuff.”

Alec snorted. “You almost killed me with a grenade!”

“I saved your ass with a grenade!” Max sniffed delicately. “What’s that awful smell?”

“Smells like tar.” Alec opened the last crate, this one carefully packed with Max’s favorite explosive—C4. He closed the crate quickly, but it was too late. He heard her gasp behind him. That should have alerted him, but his words slipped out anyway.

“That’s enough C4 to blow up a city.”

* * * *

“Enough to blow up Terminal City?”

She stepped back when Alec whipped his entire body around. He opened his mouth—probably to question her sanity—so she spoke first.

“Obviously, no one would be in TC. We’re already evacuating to the new locations.” Alec only narrowed his gaze.

“I forgot to tell you?” Max tried to look apologetic. “You were kind of in a coma?”

Alec just rubbed his face with both hands.

* * * *

This woman. She was forever surprising him or irritating him. When was she going to tell him about TC? When they showed up to an empty compound?

“Is there anything else you forgot to tell me?”

He waited impatiently, knowing there had to be more.

* * * *

“The doughnut shop closes soon?” Max looked toward the street. “We should go now.”

Alec looked like he wanted to throttle her, and instead of warning her off, that only excited her. She pulled him close, nuzzling against his bare chest, enjoying the feel of his skin. Then, even though she knew _not_ to push him, she did it anyway—

“I could propose over a chocolate doughnut. If they have any left.”

* * * *

Alec growled. “Stop talking. I’m not telling the kids you proposed over a doughnut _because you felt sorry for me._ ”

“Put some effort into it woman.” He slammed the back doors shut.

“I am not an afterthought.”

* * * *

Max turned away from Alec, hiding a big smile. Oh, how she loved him. Only he could twist something as simple as a marriage proposal.

She picked up her shirt, quickly dressing, before she turned back to the unit, slamming the door shut, locking it. They would come back later and figure out logistics. For now, she had to do something important.

She had to feed Alec.

* * * *

He licked the last of the chocolate icing off his fingers, happy that he had a whole box of doughnuts to himself. She must have felt guilty for her terrible proposals because she actually bought him two pink boxes of goodness. He glanced at the rear view mirror, confirming that Max was still on the road behind him. He was glad to be driving the van instead of riding his bike.

First and foremost, his doughnuts could ride safely in the front seat. Second, it was quiet. Max was not around to distract him—which meant he could put his plan into motion.

Obviously Max was allergic to romance of any kind. She knew how to love him just fine—but she couldn’t seem to find a way to propose without making him cringe. He doubted that she was even trying, so he needed to help her out.

He hung up the phone, going over his conversation with Mole, even though the giant lizard spent the entire time grumbling. All he had to do was figure out a way to get Max into the helicopter. That was the hard part.

* * * *

Max slowed down, watching Alec pull into Terminal City without incident. They had driven nearly 13 hours straight, away from San Francisco, leaving California, crossing into Oregon, then Washington—until they were finally back in Seattle. It was close to dawn. She spotted the guards, waving to both, parking her bike next to the van.

Alec hopped out of the van, winking at her—before he smacked her in the ass. Then he danced out of the way, already yelling at Mole, his little prank forgotten.

Max narrowed her eyes at him, wondering why he needed to talk to Mole immediately. She watched them, deep in their discussion, until she realized, she was too tired to care.

But she understood that Mole had been basically running Terminal City while she and Alec were finding trouble in other cities. So she walked to the van, curious about the weapons, thinking she was bound to find a rifle for Mole.

She did—and so much more.

* * * *

“We have a problem.” Mole poked a finger into Alec. “Your breeding partner is here.”

“Max?” Alec only frowned at him. “Why is that a problem?”

“No princess.” Mole shook his head. “The _other_ one.”

But Alec just dismissed him, clearly not understanding the potential threat—until a blur of arms and legs came rushing at them.

Mole got out of the way.

* * * *

Alec had no idea why Mole was talking about breeding partners. He really just wanted to plan for tomorrow—because Max was finally going to propose to him. He was tired of waiting for her.

Then he realized that Mole thought he had _multiple_ breeding partners. But that was as far as he got. Because someone tackled him, a female definitely—jumping into his arms, expecting him to carry her weight.

He did, more out of reflex, but mostly because he didn’t want to fall. He should have taken the fall. Because next thing he knew, the woman planted a big one on his mouth, squirming happily.

_What the fuck?_

* * * *

Max looked up in time to see a beautiful blonde jump into Alec’s arms. While that was bad enough, now the woman was kissing him.

She blurred to Alec, forgetting what she was holding, wondering why he let the woman even touch him. She resisted the urge to beat them both senseless. Instead she watched Alec push the woman away, wiping his mouth—looking first shocked, then disgusted, before he settled into horrified.

She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. So she chose that exact moment to express herself—

“Alec, my love. Would now be a good time to propose?”

* * * *

Alec turned to Max, relieved to hear her voice—until he realized that she was pointing a rocket launcher at them. 

“This is the worst time!” Then he turned to Mole. “See what I mean? She’s torturing me on purpose!”

But Max said nothing, as she waited patiently for an explanation. The problem was, he couldn’t explain anything. He had no clue who jumped him—or even why. So he raised his arms in surrender, just in case Max was feeling trigger happy.

“I don’t know her Max.”

* * * *

“Of course you do.” The woman purred at him. “I’m your breeding partner. Before you got reassigned to her, that is.”

Then she flipped her hair, raised an eyebrow, and made herself known. “My name is Natalya.”

Max just laughed and walked away.

* * * *

Mole tried _not_ to laugh. It was hard though. The look on Alec’s face was comical. He was a combination of stunned and disappointed.

“Were you expecting fearless leader to defend your honor?”

Mole snorted when Alec said nothing. Sometimes pretty people were dumb.

* * * *

Alec finally looked at Mole. “I thought she was going to blast me into smithereens.”

“She should have.” Mole snickered. “You’re an idiot. Who lets some stranger get that close?”

“That was an accident!” Alec blinked in confusion. “Where did she go?”

* * * *

Max knew the woman was coming for her. Before she took her next step, blonde Natalya was in front of her. Max eyed her skeptically, waiting for her to make a move, but not before she collected some information.

“You’re fast.” Max leaned into her space, watching Natalya freeze in surprise. “Cheetah?”

Natalya only nodded, before she narrowed her eyes.

“You are stunning.” Max whistled slowly, her gaze moving up and down Natalya’s body. “I bet no one can resist you.”

Natalya smirked, and Max almost winced, the sudden epiphany slapping her in the face. Did Manticore actually make a female version of Alec?

_Just great._

Max wondered if she could accidentally blow up TC _with Natalya in it_. Especially when the irritating blonde spoke her next words—

“I challenge you. Alec belongs to me.”


	38. Unexpected

Chapter 37 – Unexpected

Alec woke to hear pounding on the door. He reached for his phone, checking the time, knowing it was too early. He’d only just fallen asleep three hours ago. He groaned, about to pull on his jeans, when he saw a big note taped to his zipper.

“Doing recon. See you at 0900.”

Ok, so slightly better than a napkin. But seriously, what recon? What in the world was Max doing now?

* * * *

“Wake up princess!” Mole banged on the door again. “You’re about to miss the show.”

Alec yanked the door open, clearly disgruntled. “You know I need my beauty sleep. Especially for the big day.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Mole was already dragging Alec away from the door. “She’s only been here a week, but she’s trouble that one.”

“Who?” Alec dug his feet in. “Can’t I find some breakfast first?”

“Your stalker.” Mole pulled him toward an abandoned section of TC. “She set up a special area.”

“Not interested, not even a little—“ But Alec’s voice faded away, and Mole knew that he was staring at the unexpected.

A cage fight in the middle of TC.

* * * *

Max was lying on the roof of the tallest building in TC, and coincidentally, the one with prime view of the ridiculous chaos below. Natalya had somehow built an octagon ring, complete with chain link fence. She had followed Natalya last night, after she issued her challenge, wondering at her motive.

Then she realized that it didn’t matter. 

She was done with everyone _wanting_ Alec.

Alec had chosen her—and everyone in Terminal City had known that, even before she did. They had worked hard to find each other—to love each other—despite all the odds, despite all the danger.

Then now, of all things, some dumb blonde was staking her claim, dismissing Max like she was nothing. That alone should have angered her, but Max didn’t work that way. She loved challenges. She loved them because she knew how to win.

She had spent an hour watching Natalya train, showing off for the small crowd. Already Max knew that the blonde was faster than her. Her fighting skills were impressive too. She’d received advanced training at Manticore, something Max never got.

In a fair fight, the blonde would win, hands down.

But Max wasn’t going to fight fair. She was just going to win.

* * * *

“I don’t get it.” Alec looked around the crowd, counting only twenty warm bodies. Good thing most everyone had evacuated. It would be more of a spectacle otherwise.

But Mole wasn’t even paying attention. He was busy betting on the blonde.

“Did you just bet your last cigar?” Alec raised an eyebrow.

Mole grunted. “It’s an easy win. She’s beat everyone that’s she challenged. She too fast, too strong.”

“Why is she fighting?” Alec grumbled. “I’d rather be sleeping.”

“She’s looking for her alpha.” Mole only chuckled. “She’s breaking up couples, fighting the females, searching for that one lucky male.”

* * * *

Natalya swung her hair theatrically, knowing that it was only a matter of time. The bets had been placed, and now she just needed Max to show up. The fight wouldn’t take long—that much she knew. But it would be fun.

She winked at the referee, a transhuman who sadly was immune to her charms. He merely ignored her, walking away, waiting for the opponent.

She saw Alec standing to the side, shaking his head at the giant lizard, clearly about to leave. That would change—she was sure of it.

Then she felt the shift in energy—and she knew it was about to start. She smiled when the hush descended over the crowd. She smiled because she was about to defeat Max.

* * * *

“Damn.” Mole turned away, looking for the bookie. “I need to change my bet.”

“You just told me she never loses.” Alec sounded irritated. “It’s an easy win—“

“Pay attention princess.” Then Mole snickered. “Look who just walked in.”

* * * *

Alec froze, wondering at the sudden quiet, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer. Mole was already acting weird about the cage fight—and now, for some reason, everyone was looking at him.

He narrowed his eyes. He had authority to cancel this stupid fight. He had things to do today. Max was going to propose, but first they had to blow up Terminal City. They had just enough people to set the charges strategically. It would be a grand explosion. It would make the news. It would be a reprieve if everyone in the world thought them dead.

He turned to face the crowd. Then he saw what everyone else saw. Max finally arriving to break up the fight. He didn’t have to be the bad guy then.

He smiled when Max sauntered up him, placing hands on either side of his face, pulling him close, kissing him deeply. Alec wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the feel of her body against his, enjoying her taste. When she broke the kiss, when winked at him, when she walked away—none of it made sense.

Then she vanished inside the cage, but not before she whispered—

“Wish me luck.”

* * * *

Oh, she was a clever one. Natalya eyed Max with distaste. That would be the last time she kissed Alec. She would be ready when the bell rang. She was ready now.

Then she raised an eyebrow when she realized that Max was yawning. It was enough to send Alec over the edge apparently. He was trying to keep quiet, but she could hear everything—and all it did was make her smile.

It would be her quickest win yet.

* * * *

“Max, are you sleepy?” Alec hissed in disbelief. “Get out of there now!”

But Max just yawned again—before she started stretching her shoulders out.

“You’re ignoring me?” Alec looked around, wondering what he was missing. “Is someone’s life in danger? Is Cherry here? What’s going on? You hate cage fighting!”

When he thought she would keep silent, she finally answered him—

“I’m a little tired Alec. That was a long drive in. Plus I’m hungry. Do we have any doughnuts left?”

* * * *

Max watched Alec go pale, his freckles standing out more than usual. But she needed to appear weak, and she knew that blondie was listening. Hell, she knew that everyone was listening.

She closed her eyes, wondering what she could say to ease his worry. Then she met his gaze, fingers going through the chain link fence, needing just a little touch. His fingers wrapped around hers, his eyes going dark, the green piercing right into her soul. He waited, and she gave him what he needed—a small reminder.

“It’s Tuesday Alec.”

* * * *

Alec let go when he heard the words, when he saw something flicker in her eyes. She was asking him to trust her.

He didn’t hear Mole come up to him, even though he was whistling loudly. He didn’t hear the bell ring, signaling the start of the fight. He only knew that the blonde had already launched herself across the ring and—

_Max wasn’t even paying attention._

Alec winced when the blonde got two solid punches in, Max’s head snapping back, her body hitting the ground. Why the hell wasn’t she blocking the shots? What kind of lazy fighting was this?

He needed to stop the fight. Max was going to get hurt. Max was _already_ hurt. She had a bloody lip and a new cut on her cheek.

He took a step toward the ring. He took that step and ran into Mole.

* * * *

Two free shots. That was all Max would give. Blondie was about to flick her hair, get it out of her eyes. She thought she had Max beat. She was sitting on top of her, practically victorious.

Max whimpered, just to hurry it up, just to feed her ego.

It worked. Blonde Natalya smiled, using her left hand to move her hair, clear her vision. That was all Max needed. She shifted her hips, scooting upward, so that her legs could lock around her waist—but not before she aimed for the liver, striking fast and hard.

She watched her blue eyes widen in surprise. Max threw jabs into her face, that irritating smirk already fading away. She heard her opponent gasp, but Max didn’t care. She had already reversed positions, pinning her opponent—and now Max was enjoying the fight. The blonde hair disappeared, and all Max saw was Natalya beating Alec into submission.

She rained blow after blow, common sense disappearing into a haze, the blood spattering all over Max, all over the ground, just everywhere really.

* * * *

The bell rung, and everyone froze, wondering if Max would stop pummeling the blonde—who wasn’t even moving at this point. The referee walked to Max, extending a hand, offering to pull her up.

It was silent then, as everyone waited for Max to react. She would end the fight by acknowledging the referee—or she would simply end her opponent. 

Someone broke the silence then, clapping and cheering. Someone else whistled, adding to the noise, the volume increasing as more joined. It must have been enough. Max nodded to the referee, but she stood up by herself.

“Get the med team in here.”

That was all she said.

* * * *

Alec knew that blonde Natalya was still alive. He could hear the shallow breathing, the irregular heartbeat. He saw her fingers twitch, almost like she wasn’t done fighting Max.

When he had watched Max fight Natalya in San Francisco, it had been brutal but efficient. No wasted moves. Natalya had died only when Max allowed it, releasing pressure on the femoral artery. It was a quick death. It was all business.

Today, Max had been different. Careless it seemed, at first, the way Max lost control immediately, especially when she ended up on her back. Then he’d been outraged that Max wasn’t fighting back at all. 

Before he could protest, before he could demand the fight end—Max had already pinned her opponent, on top of her, her fists fast and deadly. Alec held his breath, waiting and watching, wondering when the opponent would fight back. 

It didn’t happen.

_Max simply decimated her._

Then it hit Alec, something he’d never witnessed before—

_Max deep in raw fury._

* * * *

Max inhaled, the metallic smell of blood strong. She had resisted the urge to kill blonde Natalya. For that, she should be grateful—except she wasn’t. She was irritated to find her opponent asleep. She kicked her, wanting Natalya to be conscious, wanting her to understand the consequences.

She narrowed her eyes when nothing happened. But the med team was already scrambling for smelling salts. Blonde Natalya groaned before she came to, staggering to her feet, automatically cursing at her—in what sounded like Russian. 

That was too much. Max slapped her into silence.

“You are no longer welcome here. If I see you again, you’re dead. If my team sees you, you’re dead. My orders are shoot to kill. Do you understand?”

No response. Max slapped her again.

“Or I kill you now. Choose.”

* * * *

Alec stepped inside the cage then, needing to be near Max. She was just at that edge, about to tip over, if the dumb blonde couldn’t give her the right answer. If anything, Alec would take that choice from her—so Max wouldn’t have another reason for regret, needing forgiveness for yet another death.

He was close enough to touch her, close enough to pull her into his arms. But Max shook her head at him, freezing him. Then she raised her hand, explaining everything that he didn’t understand.

* * * *

“You challenged me to this fight, expecting to win Alec, expecting an easy victory.” Max stared at her, the blonde beauty no longer recognizable. That alone made her smile.

“No one gets between me and Alec. He is mine.”

Then Max leaned in, her voice low but clear. “Tell me you understand. Or keep ignoring me, so I can kill you now.”

* * * *

Natalya was seething. She knew when she was beat. She knew her face was a bloody mess—and damn, her ribs were painful. She must have sustained injuries there. That body shot to the liver started it all. It practically incapacitated her. She should have won the fight. 

If she had to leave, then she would get the last word. She opened her mouth, insults ready, until she realized she was staring into a barrel of a gun.

* * * *

“Don’t.” Alec released the safety, pushing the gun into her forehead. “Max didn’t kill you, but she’s nice that way. Now me, I’d have killed you already.

Then he yanked her blonde hair with his free hand, exposing her neck, hearing her gasp. He let the gun trail down her swollen face, almost lovingly, skimming her cheek, going lower still, until it settled beneath her chin.

“Now answer Max politely. Then go away before she changes her mind.”

* * * *

Max was startled when Alec spoke. She had not expected him to take control of the situation. But she found, she didn’t mind at all.

She watched Natalya acknowledge Alec, finally agreeing to leave. She even apologized for causing trouble. Max almost snorted then, hearing the veiled derision, reluctant words just so that Alec wouldn’t shoot her.

But it was enough. The security team escorted her out of the cage, out of Terminal City, and out of their lives for good.

* * * *

“You fought for me Max?” Alec pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

Max only frowned at him. “What about it?”

“It was unexpected, that’s all.” His eyes twinkled when she gasped.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Max kicked his leg. “I always fight for you. It’s exhausting work.”

“But worth it?” His voice caught, deep with unspoken emotion.

Then Max did what she was so good at. She loved him with simple actions, simple words. She framed his face with her hands, thumbs sweeping his cheekbones, fingers caressing his barcode—

“You are worth every breath in my body.”


	39. Finally

Chapter 38 – Finally

Max was on autopilot. She knew she was about to crash. The fight had sapped the last of her energy—and she needed to be alone. She needed to sleep before she walked into a wall.

She leaned on Alec, closing her eyes, forcing her feet to keep moving. She heard a door open, smelling the stale coffee, knowing it had to be her office. It wasn’t her first choice, but she could hibernate on the old sofa for a good 12 hours straight. That was the minimum she needed.

She made it to the sofa, just barely, struggling the last few steps. She let herself fall, landing on the cushions, too tired to wince when her head hit the armrest. She closed her eyes, feeling the blanket cover her body, feeling Alec brush a kiss on her forehead, hearing him promise to plant the explosives.

She wanted to smile, to acknowledge him somehow. But she was already drifting, her body shutting down, letting go of all the worries.

* * * *

Alec hadn’t realized how tired Max was. But when the fight ended, when everyone left, when it was just the two of them, he heard her sigh.

He saw her lean against the chain link fence and close her eyes.

He studied her then, seeing the dark circles, the cut lip, the bruises already forming on her cheek. She was about to collapse. He needed to get her safe before she fell asleep standing.

So he clapped his hands, right in front of her face, watching her eyes fly open in surprise. She should have yelled at him then, kicked him, pushed him—anything violent really. She didn’t react at all. She only closed her eyes again.

He had pulled her then, walking her back to command. That was closer than her apartment. He would deal with the explosives first and come back for her later.

* * * *

Each explosive had a wireless detonator. He would send an encrypted radio signal to communicate the blast signal to each detonator at the right time. So it was good that Max had a direct line to the latest in weapons technology. Not that he would admit that to her. He never wanted to set foot in San Francisco again.

He checked the last explosive, lightly touching the C4. Then he exited the tunnels, finding himself back in the main compound.

It was time to get Max. Everyone else had already evacuated.

He walked through Terminal City, surrounded by the eerie silence, knowing it would be his last time.

* * * *

Alec looked out of his window, enjoying the view from up high. He could see the rolling mountains, the many trees, the vast ocean. The property was even bigger than he’d imagined.

Mole maneuvered the helicopter over the decommissioned base, landing safely in an open field. He hopped out quickly, already striding toward the command center.

It was time to rally the troops. 

Alec grinned with anticipation.

* * * *

Max was in a deep sleep. It had been exactly three weeks, six days, and 10 hours since she’d allowed her body to shut down. Shark DNA came in handy—but it also came with a price. When she had to sleep, there was just no way to wake her up. She would revive whenever her body chose to.

Alec knew this, and he took advantage. Her timing was perfect. He wouldn’t have to trick her into the helicopter at all. 

He made a quick run to their new headquarters—Mole flying the helicopter, Max safely asleep in the back. When they hit some unexpected turbulence, Alec worried that she would wake.

She hadn’t even twitched. 

* * * *

“Everyone’s in place.” Mole looked out of his window. “But it’s all wasted if fearless leader isn’t awake.”

“How much time before we get there?” Alec peered at Max, still asleep and buckled in the backseat.

“Five minutes princess.” Mole shook his head. “Then 10 minutes, if we need to hover.”

Alec nodded, but he also frowned. She hadn’t slept enough. How was he going to wake her up?

* * * *

“She’s immune.” Alec sighed, knowing that he’d run out of time. “I tried yelling. I tried shaking her.” He shook his head. “She didn’t even punch me.”

“I can hover for another five minutes, that’s it.” Mole grunted. “Make it happen.”

“The only thing I haven’t tried is …” Then Alec smiled, and Mole caught the look.

“Hell no!” Mole hollered. “Keep your pants on. I’m going to crash the chopper if you get busy back there.”

* * * *

Max felt lethargic. She knew that she needed more sleep—so why was she waking up already? She frowned, wondering why her neck was sore. Was she sitting up? That was weird.

No, something else was weird. Her body was trembling—and she was actually moaning. This was either the stupidest dream—or the most embarrassing one. Slowly, she forced her eyes open, expecting to see her desk, books stacked on the floor, her jacket on the chair.

She saw Alec instead, his green eyes twinkling with merriment.

* * * *

_Finally._

This woman knew how to sleep. It took forever to wake her, although he knew it was 12 minutes exactly. He knew because Mole had been yelling the whole time, demanding he find some other way—while counting down the minutes.

He had kept his pants on—but he’d been sorely tempted to take Max’s off. He was pretty sure that he could wake her up with his hands and mouth. Hell, he _knew_ he could. He’d done it before.

He sat next to her, pulling her feet onto his lap, taking off her boots. Absently, he tickled her feet, not expecting any reaction. But her entire body had trembled, before she pulled her feet away.

So her feet were sensitive? That was new information for Alec. He unbuckled her, adjusting her body, capturing her feet again. This time, he applied some pressure, his thumbs massaging the soles of her feet. Instead of pulling away, Max started moaning.

He never noticed Mole giving him dirty looks. He only knew that her eyelashes were fluttering, and she would wake soon.

* * * *

“Alec?” Max winced, her neck stiff. “Where am I?”

“Mole is flying us to headquarters.” Alec pointed to his window. “Check it out.”

Max leaned toward him, not expecting the helicopter to lurch, not expecting to fall out of her seat completely. “Really? You couldn’t buckle me in?”

“I unbuckled you five minutes ago.” Alec tried to look sheepish. “So you could get more comfortable.”

Max didn’t understand a word coming out of his mouth. Comfortable for what? Then because she was still tired, she decided that she could sleep where she was. The seat was too far, and Alec was annoying her.

* * * *

Crap, Max wasn’t getting up. She was going to sleep on the floor. Her eyes were already closing too!

So Alec raised his voice, hoping that was enough. “Would you look at that?”

He watched her eyes slowly open, clearly irritated with him. He nearly smiled then, but he had to keep her focused. “I think our whole team is down there.”

He was almost out of time. Mole was making rude gestures at him.

But Max was finally moving, finally getting to the window. He knew that he had her attention when he saw her frowning, studying the team below, reading the letters they formed.

“Will you …” Max paused, her hand on the window. “Will you … marry me?”

“Yes.” Alec beamed at her, thrilled that his plan had come together. “I will marry you. I will tell the kids you planned a romantic helicopter ride and proposed while the sun was setting.”

* * * *

Max squinted at Alec, about to yell at him—except she couldn’t bring herself to wipe the joy from his face. She loved him happy like this. But she was still sleepy, and she couldn’t quite let it go.

“What just happened?”

* * * *

Sometimes Max was really dense, but he loved her anyway. When she looked at him all bewildered and helpless, he wanted to kiss her. But first he wanted her to understand.

“You just proposed to me.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, each one. “It was perfect.”

“The kids will love this story.” He watched her lips twitch a little, but she didn’t interrupt him.

“I will tell them about all your failed attempts.” She frowned at that, but he ignored her.

“But today, finally—“ He cupped her face, touching his forehead to hers, loving every moment with her.

“You redeemed yourself.”


	40. Epiphany

Chapter 39 – Epiphany

It should have been a day of celebration. Alec finally got the proposal he wanted, and Max was in his arms, pliant. She hadn’t said a word to contradict him. It was perfect really, until he heard her light snoring, knowing she had fallen asleep.

He’d held on until they landed, carrying Max to their new apartment—although crap, he wasn’t paying attention. The apartment was huge—and in fact, was a damn house. He placed a sleeping Max on the one sofa in the living room, before he decided to explore his new surroundings.

He counted four bedrooms, a huge kitchen, a big backyard. It was too much space for just the two of them. He walked into the garage, smiling when he saw their bikes parked next to each other, her black Ninja and his green Duke. He remembered panicking at the storage unit, thinking he’d have to leave his bike behind. Because how could he drive the van _and_ ride his bike?

But Max had dragged him to a seedy automotive shop—which looked more like a chop shop really—and started sweet talking a big, tattooed biker named Larry. Alec almost put down his doughnuts, just so he’d be ready to fight. But the giant man in black leather and metal studs only laughed at Max, before he nodded toward a motorcycle hitch with a ramp. 

Then she had walked back to him, eyes twinkling—

“Move it pretty boy. He really wanted a date with you, but I talked him down to a Glock and some ammo.”

* * * *

Alec found a blanket and tucked Max in. He wasn’t sure when she would wake up now. She had roughly six hours of sleep, and he knew that she needed more. He was tempted to lie down next to her, but he was curious about the new property they now called home.

Whistling, he checked the windows and doors, securing the house, before he walked toward the command center. He got lost of course, ending up at the mess hall instead, but that turned into a happy coincidence. He scarfed down the macaroni with tiny hot dogs, wondering when Joshua had taken over chef duties.

Then he noticed two kids at the far table, a boy and a girl, huddled together, quietly eating. He wandered over to them, figuring he might as well get their story.

Before he did, he looked back toward the house, the one where he’d left Max, and for the first time in a long time, he was happy. No one was shooting at him, Max was safe—and so were his people.

Maybe now they could relax a little, enjoy life instead of being so afraid of it.

* * * *

Max stretched, finally recharged, after spending nearly 18 hours asleep. She rolled over, anticipating the rest of the bed—and promptly landed on the floor. Cursing, she spit out some hair, got on her hands and knees—and froze. The floor did not look familiar at all. It was polished oak, wide planks, scuffed in some places, but otherwise beautiful.

Carefully, she stood up, wondering where the hell she was. She scanned the massive living room, her gaze finally settling on her boots by the front door. She smiled then, walking to door except—

_Did he really tie her boots together—again?_

* * * *

Alec walked into the house, unprepared for the storm that had to be Max. He dropped the pizza he’d carefully procured from the downtown café over an hour away. It was a little cold, but he figured they could try to work the oven together.

He was excited because he wanted to tell Max about the new kids on the compound. He was excited because he had ideas about training them. He wasn’t so excited when her boots came flying at his face and nearly knocked him unconscious.

He looked at her, realizing she never found the note he’d left her. He thought maybe she was annoyed because of her boots. But when she spoke, without raising her voice—when she smiled, without it reaching her eyes—he knew that she was furious. He knew because all she said was—

“Welcome home honey.”

* * * *

Max launched herself at him, flattening him right there. “You tied my boots. I am not happy.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “Where the hell are we?”

Then, because Max was always a bit disoriented after her monthly hibernations—

“Feed me before I kill you.”

* * * *

Alec raised himself slowly, resting on his elbows. He’d forgotten that Max woke up murderous. Probably tying her boots wasn’t his best idea, but he didn’t want her running around, scaring anyone dumb enough to cross her path.

“I left you a note.” Her eyes only narrowed at him.

“I brought some dinner.” He pointed to the pizza on the floor. She didn’t even blink.

“I love you?” He wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear. Then he realized that it didn’t matter at all. He was just glad that she was finally awake.

So he sat up completely, Max straddling him, her hands automatically resting on his shoulders. “I missed you.” He finally saw something flicker in her eyes. He knew that she was in the perfect spot to _feel_ just how much he missed her.

He cupped her face, claiming her mouth, enjoying her gasp of surprise, savoring her taste. He felt her hands on him, already removing his shirt, removing her shirt too. _Finally._ His involuntary abstinence would end today.

He was wrong.

* * * *

Max forgot that she was angry when Alec kissed her. She felt his mouth on her, his hands on her—and the dam broke. Weeks of trying to be careful, of wanting Alec to heal—and all she felt was _need._

She felt his hands on her back, his fingers working the bra clasp. She held her breath, wondering and hoping, leaning her forehead on his. Then her breasts were free, his hands cupping them, his mouth sucking and licking—and Max forgot why she even worried. She forgot until she heard a little hitch.

Before she could protest, Alec was already shifting, standing up, carrying her to the sofa. He sat her up, kneeling in front of her, unzipping her jeans, yanking them off. Then his hands were on her bare thighs. She wasn’t sure when she lost her panties. She only knew that his mouth was on her, his tongue inside her, his fingers skimming and teasing. She was clutching at him, gasping, knowing that she was close, knowing that she should be worried about something—except she didn’t care. 

Then her mind went blank, and it was too much—and she was shuddering and screaming his name. 

She felt him move, felt his mouth on hers—and she welcomed him, wanting more, wanting all of him. She unzipped his jeans, finding him ready, and she heard it, that stupid little hitch.

Then she was shuddering and screaming again. 

_Alec wasn’t breathing._

* * * *

Max didn’t feel the tears streaming down her face. She only knew that she had to get him breathing again. She started chest compressions, counting automatically, giving him breath. 

She was drowning in a terrible combination of fury, grief, and regret. What was wrong with her? Why didn't she stop him?

_She didn’t even try._

When he finally gasped for air, when he opened his eyes, when he finally spoke, she wasn’t prepared. 

* * * *

Alec knew he was skating on thin ice, that he should have stopped before he even moved her to the couch. He’d felt his chest tighten, but he’d ignored it. He wanted Max, and he was tired of waiting for the right time. He was tired of his body _not cooperating._

He knew she was about to complain, to stop him, to say that his health was more important. If today was his last day, then dammit, he was going to enjoy himself. He was going to feast on Max.

So he did. He loved her little moans. He loved her hips gyrating, her fingers digging into his scalp. When she finally came, when he kissed that luscious mouth of hers, he was deep in ecstasy. He would be inside of Max—and the world would be right again.

Except it wasn’t.

He woke on the floor, his chest sore, staring at a cathedral ceiling. He heard sniffling, and he wasn’t quite ready to face Max. He didn’t think he could look at her without breaking down. 

So he didn’t. He closed his eyes instead.

* * * *

Max saw his eyes flutter open, before they slowly closed again. She wasn’t expecting his silence.

She wiped her tears impatiently, knowing that this was all her fault. She should have been paying attention. No amount of pleasure was worth Alec’s life. None.

She placed a hand over his chest, knowing that it would bruise. She placed her other hand on his cheek, her thumb sweeping over his lips, waiting for his eyes to open.

When he finally looked at her, she didn’t recognize him. She didn’t see his love for her. She only saw his exhaustion.

“I’m sorry Alec. It’s my fault.”

All he did was wince.

* * * *

Alec pulled the blanket off the couch, placing it over her shoulders. She was shivering, and she didn’t even know it. She was so worried about him, so focused on him, that she couldn’t see anything else.

“It’s not your fault Max. I should be better already, but I’m not.”

Then Max shook her head, about to interrupt him, but he kept going. He needed to speak while he could. While he knew what was right.

He stood up then, taking her with him, pulling her close. “It’s been weeks Max. Why can’t I breathe properly? What’s wrong with me?”

Then he inhaled the scent of Max deep into his lungs—and dammit, even that hurt. But the epiphany of the moment nearly choked him. He said the words out loud, knowing he would hurt her, knowing he would hate himself.

“I can’t be near you and not touch you. I’m leaving.”

* * * *

Max felt the sudden pain, his words digging deep and twisting.

“We just need to slow down. It’ll take some time. You’ll get better.”

She spoke, and she knew he wasn’t listening. He was holding her, but she could feel the distance between them. Then he was stepping away, already moving toward the door, and out of her life.

* * * *

Alec picked up her boots, unraveling the knots, placing them on the floor. All he had to do was reach for that doorknob. That was all he had to do.

But he stood frozen, listening to her heartbeat racing, knowing that she blamed herself. So he turned around, wanting to ease her burden, wanting her to hurt a little less.

“I can’t slow down Max. It’s all or nothing for me.” He raised his hand, stopping her interruption.

“Do you remember when Natalya died? Between your legs? Did you think I was joking?” Big brown eyes looked alarmed.

“All or nothing Max. I would rather die loving you than live safely.”

* * * *

“That’s stupid. This is your life!” Max yelled at him, clutching the blanket, wishing she could throw something at him. She wasn’t about to lift the sofa, and the pizza box was too far.

“I proposed to you—and now, you’re dumping me?” Max dropped the blanket, and she knew how to stop him from walking out on her. She watched his eyes widen, before he shook his head, pretending he didn’t notice she was completely naked.

“After everything we’ve been through, this is how we end?” She went to him then, needing to be close, needing to know it wasn’t all lost.

She wanted him to yell at her, to get mad— _to not be so calm._

She didn’t rattle him at all.

* * * *

So Max was going to fight dirty. He almost smiled then, but he adored her—every irrational, stubborn, passionate inch of her. She wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, but she was magnificent in her anger.

He picked up his shirt, pulling it over her head, covering that body he loved so much. Then he cupped her cheeks, leaning his forehead on hers, giving her the words he should have given her first.

“I love you Max. We are not done.” He kissed her lightly, carefully, gently. “Are you willing to give up the phenomenal fucking? Because I’m not.”

“Let me do this.” He rubbed his nose on hers, hearing her breath shudder. “I’ll come back when I’m ready.”

* * * *

Max nodded because she didn’t know what else to do. She hated that Alec felt he had to leave. She hated that Natalya was dead, and that wasn’t enough.

“When will you be ready?” She waited, wondering if he had a plan.

But he only shrugged. “When I can run a marathon at full speed? When I can blur across buildings without wheezing?”

She said nothing. He loved her the way he lived life—completely and with abandon. But he was a proud man. She heard what he wasn’t saying, unexpectedly sinking into her own epiphany.

_Alec wasn’t going to take another rejection._


	41. Plan

Chapter 40 – Plan

It had been exactly one week since Alec walked out on her. He was infinitely polite when he was alone with her—but he made every effort _not_ to be alone with her. It hurt her to know that, even if she understood why.

The irony was, whenever anyone was nearby, Alec was affectionate. He would take her hand, or rub her shoulders, or kiss the back of her neck. He showed everyone that he loved her.

Max just didn’t feel like he did.

* * * *

It was torture to be near Max. The few times he’d been alone with her, he wasn’t sure how he’d survive. He just wanted to love her without her worrying, without his chest about to explode.

So when they had their morning meetings, when everyone else was around—he knew it was safe to touch her. He thought she would reject him, when he first reached out to move her hair—but she had surprised him.

She had blinked wide eyes at him, before she sighed, turning to face him. He’d kissed her then, on the forehead—and he’d felt her tremble, just a little bit. Then someone had asked a question, and she answered quietly, but she never looked away from him.

Just yesterday, she had been bent over the maps, leaning over the table, and she looked so tense that he ran his hand over her back, rubbing gently. She had stiffened in surprise, before she relaxed into his touch, denying him nothing.

Today, she had walked out of the mess hall, only to bump right into him. He steadied her, his arms automatically pulling her close. His body reacted to her nearness. Her scent was intoxicating, cherry and vanilla mixing and luring him in. He’d kissed her then, claiming her mouth, reveling in her taste. He felt the wildness in her response, and he wanted more.

But someone was whistling, and the kids were cheering him on—and why did he hear clapping too?

He broke the kiss then, leaning his forehead on hers, knowing that Max wouldn’t open her eyes, not yet anyway. When she did, he saw the pain she tried to mask. When he would have said something to comfort her, she spoke first.

“I will take all the kisses you want to give me.”

* * * *

Max knew what he was doing, and she hated it. She wanted him to touch her all the time, not just sometimes. Not when he thought it was safe.

Every time, it had been Alec to initiate any display of affection. Was she allowed to touch him? She wasn’t sure. She would guess no.

So Max went with it, the stupid plan to keep their distance and pretend everything was ok. She lasted two weeks before she realized that she was a moron. Alec gave her the plan. He just needed help implementing it.

Then after, she would claim him. Or she would let him think he claimed her. She didn’t care really. She just wanted their fake love to be real.

* * * *

Ana was only six, but she was sharp. She loved to talk, but she especially loved to be near Alec. He was funny, but he was also sad. So she sidled up to him, patting his hand, offering a solemn smile.

“Do you want my apple?” She waited, only to be disappointed when he shook his head.

“I know how to cheer you up.” She pointed to one of the newcomers, a tall transgenic who was always flirting with the nearest skirt. “Beat him up. I think he likes Max.”

That got his attention. Suddenly he was eyeing the new guy. It even looked like he was going to get up. Then he closed his eyes, and nothing happened.

“Or just beat him at the races next week. We’re having some kind of field day.”

* * * *

Alec was very tempted to punch the new guy in the face. He called himself Rock, and he was full of inappropriate jokes, bragging about his rock hard body, his rock hard abs, his rock hard _everything._

Normally, Alec didn’t care about juvenile behavior, but right now, Rock was standing too close to Max. He was actually sniffing her hair, and she wasn’t even paying attention. He wanted to get up, he really did. But he was sure a single punch wasn’t enough. He’d just clobber the guy into the ground.

Then he smiled wickedly. Why the hell not? He loved Max, and even if they weren’t living together—he should defend her honor, right? 

Before he even stood up, Max took care of the problem herself.

* * * *

“Stop Rock.” Max froze, turning around slowly. “Go away. I’m not interested.”

But like any alpha male, he wasn’t easily dissuaded. So he gave her a sly smile, and maybe it worked on everyone else, but all it did was irritate her. 

“Here’s the problem.” He took a step closer, tilting his head at her. “You smell good. But you’re supposed to be with Alec. Except you don’t smell like him. So he hasn’t touched you in how long? How stupid is he?”

Max hated that Rock was right. Alec should be touching her. His scent should have mixed with hers, so that no one could tell them apart. If she thought too much about it, she would have broken down then and there. But she was too stubborn and too angry, so she did the next best thing.

She took a step, pivoting, knowing he wasn’t expecting her. She put her entire weight into her throw, striking fast and hard. Her right hook connected, just like the elbow strike that followed. Before he could react, she had already kicked him in the chest, forcing him away from her.

“Don’t challenge me. Don’t challenge Alec. Someone will end up dead, and it won’t be either one of us. Am I clear?”

The security team arrived, already pulling him up, even though he was pushing them away. He nodded at her, but his blue eyes flickered, promising something else, something she didn’t want to figure out.

* * * *

Denny was only 12, but he was wise for his age. He had watched Max react to Rock, attacking until he fell to the ground. Her speed had surprised Rock, he could tell.

Alec of course, had simply frozen to the spot. He was supposed to be smart, guiding them—so what was this exactly? What was he teaching them?

“You’re running out of time Alec.” Denny pointed to Max, who was already striding away, back to command. “If you don’t want her, someone else will.”

Then Alec had turned cold eyes on Denny, surprising him into stillness. His words were low, but Denny heard the threat.

“I love Max. She’s mine. That’s all you need to know.”

* * * *

Max dropped a box of Cuban cigars on Mole’s desk. He looked up startled, eyeing both Max and the cigars with suspicion.

“Who’s the fastest?” Max got right to the point. “I need Alec to race him next week.” 

“That idiot Rock. He’s fast.” Mole snorted. “I don’t know if princess can beat him.”

“Right.” Max frowned. “I want the mile-sprint.”

“No such thing.” This time Mole frowned. “It’s the 400-meter sprint. That’s what the Olympians did.”

But Max just laughed. “We’re faster and stronger than any Olympian. Anyone who wants to race has to qualify. Five qualifying races. One mile each.”

Max sat on the edge of his desk, studying the wall. “Give me five different races. Different terrains. Concrete, dirt, hills. Blurring over rooftops, something.”

“Wait.” Mole started tapping his fingers. “One race has five qualifying runs. That’s five miles plus the race itself. Six miles total. Plus the other four races.” Mole squinted at Max, waving his cigar at her. “You’re saying run 30 miles at full speed? That’s insane.”

Max sniffed. “There will be 10 minute breaks in between. That should be enough.”

“What in the hell—“ Mole broke off. “Who would even want to compete? Does the winner get a free helicopter ride?”

“The winner gets a special evening with me.” Max leaned in. “Dinner, dancing, whatever.” 

Mole kept silent, clearly not understanding.

“It’s all or nothing.” Then Max stood up, walking toward the door.

“Alec has to win.” She gripped the doorknob, unwilling to back down. “He has to earn me.”

* * * *

Ana burst into the Alec’s office, startling him awake. He hadn’t been sleeping much, but he’d manage to doze off. He looked at the clock, seeing only 15 minutes had gone by. He closed his eyes, wondering if she would take the hint.

She didn’t. She just got to the point.

“We have to train. It’s a lot of running, but I know you can do it.”

Alec frowned, wondering why she was so worked up. “We train two hours, every morning—“

“We have to train more!” Ana clapped her hands. “We have to. Because I don’t want Rock to win.”

Alec winced. He didn’t want to compete with Rock. He mostly wanted to crush his face into a wall. But Ana’s next words changed his mind.

“You have to. The winner gets free dinner with Max. At the house.”

* * * *

“That’s some ridiculous shit.” Alec growled. “No way she agreed to that.”

“Language!” Ana scolded him. “She said the winner could chose cash instead. Do you think Rock will choose cash?”

“He won’t.” Alec rubbed his face in frustration. “He wants Max.”

Then he got off the couch, intent on confronting the woman. 

She was nowhere to be found.

* * * *

Max wasn’t trying to hide. She was actually talking to Denny, who happened to be eating lunch at the same time she was. She was curious about him, curious that Alec spent so much time with him and the little girl.

Denny had been quite helpful, explaining their training regimen, what time they met, which combat techniques they focused on, what they ate, how much they slept. Max smiled then, as she finally understood what Alec had been doing. He was training the kids, yes. But he was also training with them. He worked hard every morning for those two hours, sweating alongside the children. 

Then, when everyone was asleep, he was training from midnight until 2:00AM. He was in the gym alone, on the punching bag, using the jump rope, doing push ups and crunches—really anything he could think of to test his physical endurance.

He was pushing his heart to the limit.

He was forcing his lungs to work overtime.

When she figured out his midnight activities, she’d found the perfect perch, high in the rafters. The beams were wide enough to support her—and it was dark enough that he couldn’t see her. All she had to do was keep still.

So she did.

Alec was relentless. He spent 20 minutes on the speed bag, his fists flying fast, his breath even the whole time. Then he moved onto the punching bag, the one hanging in the corner. He jabbed at the leather, 100 punches with his right, 100 with his left. His form was perfect, his body loose, but strong. Then he would step back and practice kicking. The roundhouse, the front kick, the push kick, all of it. By the time he was done, he was jumping up and down, swinging his arms.

He should have been out of breath.

He was sweaty, yes. But his heartbeat was steady. 

More important, Max hadn’t heard the hitch at all.

* * * *

“She’s nice.” Denny sat down next to Alec. “She’s not scary at all.”

“You saw Max?” Alec turned to the boy. “Where?”

“Here, in the mess hall.” Denny sipped his chocolate milk. “When you were napping.”

“I should have been napping.” Alec grumbled. “But Ana woke me up. Told me about some dumbass grand prize for the winner.”

“Yep.” Denny grinned. “I hope you win. I sure don’t want Rock to eat dinner at your house.”

* * * *

The plan was working. Max had just watched Alec run his qualifying races. He had his own cheering section, the kids were jumping up and screaming every time he finished a run. He would win, and he could go back to loving her openly.

She smiled then, moving out of the shadows, walking back to her office.

She missed Alec picking up Ana, swinging her in his arms, the little girl chattering a mile a minute. She missed Alec freeze, his gaze focused on her back, a gaze that wasn’t loving at all.


	42. Inevitable

Chapter 41 – Inevitable

Alec carried Ana back to the shade, listening only to half of what she was saying. He’d spotted Max lurking by the trees, watching him qualify for the races. He’d nearly blurred to her, just so he could yell at her for offering herself as a prize.

Then something Ana said made him pause. He gave her his full attention—and felt the blood drain from his face.

* * * *

“I’ve been practicing my multiplication tables.” Ana stroked his cheek. “You have a lot of freckles.”

“So do you, short stuff.” He snorted at her. “What’s seven times nine?”

“No, no, no. I’m on fives still.” Ana smiled happily. “Fives are easy! Five, 10, 15, 20 …”

Alec nodded, not willing to interrupt. She could count by fives until he fell over. Maybe today she would stop before she hit 1000.

“Did you know, you ran five times for each race?” She placed small hands on either cheek. “That’s five times five! That’s 25 miles Alec!”

“That’s like a marathon!” Ana frowned at him, rubbing his cheeks. “You need to shave. Max won’t kiss your face.”

* * * *

Max was nervous. Everything would end today. Alec would win, and they could stop pretending. He wouldn’t want anyone else to win—she made sure of that. He’d trained hard, and his body was ready.

Max heard the starting pistol, but she was already turning away. She couldn’t stay. She wasn’t going to watch Alec win. She wasn’t going to watch Alec lose.

* * * *

Alec bent over his knees, breathing heavily, staring into the grass. He knew that Rock was watching him, leaning against a tree, smirking at him, even though he’d lost the race.

Alec straightened, ready with an insult. But Rock was staring past him, to the bleachers where Max was.

He turned then, expecting to see her, seeing only her back as she walked away.

* * * *

Max sighed, feeling the black silk slide over her skin. It was a short dress, with a deep V-neckline, draped loose at the top, and tight at the bottom. She walked to the closet, pulling out her new boots, the ones that went up to her thighs. The leather was soft and supple. The heel was manageable. She wasn’t going to outrun any bad guys, but she wouldn’t fall on her face.

She pulled out her backpack, wondering if she had any makeup. She found a small Ziploc bag of lipstick and eyeliner. She also found something else, something she forgot about—a sheet of stickers, the gold stars winking at her, mocking her.

Trembling, she peeled off one sticker, placing it on her cheek. Then she peeled another, and another. Carefully, she arranged gold stars down her chest, following the deep neckline, until it hit her belly button—because yes, the neckline was that deep. There was no way to wear a bra with the dress. Not that she wanted Alec to fight with a bra anyway.

She adjusted the fabric, so that it would cover the gold stars on her skin. Only one star was visible—the one on her cheek. He would see it, and he would know.

* * * *

“There you are!” Ana was out of breath. “Why are you hiding over here?”

Max winced, wondering how anyone could find her so quickly, much less a little girl. Before she could answer, Ana waved a water bottle at her.

“This is Alec’s victory water!” Ana gave it to Max. “See, I put all my positive energy into it. I’m saving it for the last race!”

Max inspected the bottle, deciding to add some positive energy too. She wanted Alec to win. Hell, she just wanted Alec.

Then Ana shrieked, hearing the 1-minute warning, taking the bottle from Max, never noticing anything different about it.

* * * *

“Well fuck and damn.” Rock whistled in appreciation. “I thought about taking the cash, just so you wouldn’t kill me, but I might have to rethink my cowardly ways.”

Alec narrowed his gaze at Rock, before he turned around. In fact, Rock wasn’t the only one whistling. It seemed like everyone was. Max had finally come back to the races, and now she was dressed like a glittery hooker. 

_What the hell?_

* * * *

Max underestimated the power of a little black dress. She was wearing her leather jacket though, so she didn’t understand the big deal. It was a short dress, but her legs weren’t too exposed, as the thigh high boots covered practically everything. 

But she felt a soft breeze, caressing her skin, reminding her that the neckline was deep, that the gold stars would peek through if the silk moved just a little (which it did). She was tempted to zip her jacket then, to hide behind the leather—but she looked up then, startled to find Alec staring at her, startled because he didn’t look happy at all.

* * * *

Alec won three races, knowing that he would win them all. Rock was angry, unable to comprehend how someone slower than him could be faster. But it wasn’t about speed. It was about more.

Max had turned their love into a game. She expected him to win. Alec was furious. He knew that she was playing him. That dumb dress only confirmed it. So he would win the final two races, then Max wouldn’t have to deal with Rock.

But he would skip the dinner. He would take the cash. 

* * * *

It was inevitable. Max screwed up. She had forgotten one very important fact—

_Alec was a master tactician._

Nearly a month ago, she’d accidentally proposed to Alec. He’d arranged the helicopter ride, organized the team, and set off the bombs. One right after the other, things happened just as he planned them. It had been too much, but it didn’t matter. She loved Alec, so she had just closed her eyes, succumbing to sleep, knowing that he would keep her safe.

Then she’d woken up and nearly killed him. She’d revived him, just so he could walk out on her. He had promised to come back, but only when he was ready.

He was ready. He was just too stubborn to admit it.

Or afraid. She wasn’t sure which.

And now, Alec had just won the fourth race. He was drinking a small bottle of water—then he was pouring it over his face, over his sweaty body—and it was all she could do not to launch herself at him, then and there.

Then he was turning toward her, his green eyes flickering—and she didn’t see any love for her. He smirked and raised his bottle in salute.

Something in Max died then.

_He knew._

He knew that she was testing his body, in public. He knew, and he resented her. He knew, and he wouldn’t forgive her.

* * * *

Alec watched Max turn way, talking to Mole, pulling something from her jacket. He didn’t see what it was because Ana was tugging his arm.

“Let’s go!” Ana dragged him toward the last race. “One more!”

Alec went with Ana because he wanted the races to be done. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He thought that Max understood him needing time alone. He thought that Max would respect his wishes.

He thought that Max loved him enough to trust him.

* * * *

“You’re not staying?” Mole took the envelope. “What’s this for?”

“Alec’s cash.” Max stepped away from the podium. “I’m going dark for awhile.”

“You can’t leave me alone with princess.” Mole looked stricken. “Last time you left, he was insane and intolerable.”

“He figured it out.” Max closed her eyes, her back to him. “He won’t want me after this.”

“You’re just as stupid as he is.” Mole growled. “You do remember, you proposed to him?”

Max flinched, but she turned to face him. “You remember he walked out? He’s living in his office, right?”

Mole surprised her then, saying nothing at first, before opening his arms to her. He’d never offered a hug before. So she walked toward him, letting his massive arms envelop her, allowing herself to feel a little less lonely.

* * * *

“You did it!” Ana barreled into Alec, small arms clutching at him. “You’re the winner. Now you can have dinner with Max.”

He picked her up, nuzzling her cheek. “Yeah, we did it. Probably because you gave me water after each race.”

“So you could hydrate!” Ana grinned happily. “Here’s your victory bottle.”

He took the bottle and thought nothing of it. He would drink it all because Ana was waiting and watching. Except this bottle was different from all the others. This one had a gold star on it.

* * * *

Alec blurred to the podium, expecting to find Max, crashing into Mole instead. Both of them ended up on the ground.

“Damn it.” Mole shoved him off.

“Where’s Max?” Alec looked behind the giant lizard. “She was just here.”

“Yeah, she left this for you.” Mole threw an envelope at him. “You guys exhaust me.”

“She left my dinner in an envelope?” Alec frowned, opening it, seeing the small stack of hundreds. “Is this the cash prize?”

“Get your act together. You had me organize teams for that dumbass proposal that didn’t even work. You’re still unmarried. You’re living in the office. Max came here for you—and you rejected her from a mile away.” Mole huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Alec froze, hearing what Mole wasn’t saying. Then he turned the envelope over, seeing Max’s scribble, reading the few words—

“Congratulations. You win.”

* * * *

“Well, move it princess.” Mole grumbled. “Are you going after her or what?”

Alec didn’t answer. He was only staring at the envelope like it would explain everything. It really wouldn’t—Mole knew that much.

Then Mole did the one thing that worked when Alec’s brain stopped functioning. He smacked him upside the head.

“Snap out of it.” Mole leaned into his space, poking his chest. “Find her now—or let her go.”

* * * *

It was inevitable that Alec would remember that he loved Max—but only after she was gone. Last time, she had disappeared for a month, right after White, right after he rejected her.

He wasn't losing her again. _Fuck that._

She was going to run. But this time, he would catch her.


	43. Air

Chapter 42 – Air

Max was crying, frustrated with herself. But at least she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Otherwise her face would be more of a mess. Well, the runny nose and splotchy skin weren’t pretty, but she could avoid a mirror.

She entered the house, blurring to the bedroom, knowing she didn’t have much time. She grabbed her backpack. She wanted to change, but the new boots would be a problem. She wasn’t even sure she could pull them off. They were glued onto her legs.

She made it to the garage without incident. She put her backpack on and threw a leg over her bike. Then she reached into her jacket pocket, looking for her keys, when she heard a voice—

“Looking for these?”

* * * *

Max was a sight. That short skirt was riding up, and her thighs were hugging the bike. Those new boots were a definite improvement too. Alec wondered if he could have her on top of the bike. Would it be stable? Would they fall over?

Then like last time, she placed her hand out, her palm up, waiting for her keys. Yeah, he wasn’t falling for that trick again.

So he walked to her, knowing she was trapped, that she couldn’t go anywhere. They were in the garage, the door was closed, and the bike wouldn’t start. Not without the key anyway. Unless she had another key stashed somewhere. Which was entirely possible. He narrowed his eyes. That would have to be a project for another day.

But today, Max was skittish, Max was hurt, and she was about to run. The irony was, she was the one to remind him of their promises. One little gold star on a bottle was all it took. He should have stayed with her. He should have talked to her. He had walked out because he couldn’t handle failing her again.

He couldn't handle failing himself.

* * * *

_Damn, damn, damn._

She hadn’t used her bike in weeks. She forgot that Alec moved it when they evacuated Terminal City. She forgot because she had pretty much slept through that final day.

She dropped her head, feeling her hair fall forward, covering her face. Alec wasn’t going to let her go. He’d won already. Why was he here? She couldn’t take his gloating right now. She was done.

_She was empty._

* * * *

He took her hand, gently pulling her off the bike, pulling her close to his body. He felt her stiffen against him, her breath uneven, her heart racing. Then he ran his hands over her body, settling at her hips, cupping her ass. She shuddered then, dropping her head on his shoulder, unwilling to look at him.

It hit him then, how much he loved this woman. She fought for him every single time—until she felt he wouldn’t fight for her. Until she felt he’d given up on her.

So he had to remind her that he’d never given up on her. Just that he’d given up on himself. 

* * * *

Max couldn’t handle him touching her like that. She had buried her face in his shoulder because she didn’t want him to kiss her. If he did, then she was lost. She didn’t know how to walk away when he was touching her. His hands, his mouth—hell, just his voice was enough to undo her.

Then Alec released her from his embrace, but he didn’t release her hand—not until they reached the interior door, the one that led to the kitchen. They weren’t going to fit through together. She could feel his hesitation. If he went first, then she could still exit the garage. The side door was right there.

So he released her hand, indicating that she should enter first.

She did. Then she shoved him, and locked the door.

* * * *

Alec stumbled and fell on his ass.

_Goddammit. Did she just lock him in the garage?_

He didn’t bother yelling. Max wasn’t even in the kitchen anymore. Than much he knew. He was done being polite. So he kicked the door down, hearing the frame splinter and give way. It was satisfying, but also irritating.

He was forever chasing Max.

Today that would stop.

* * * *

She knew the door wouldn’t stop him. She didn’t expect it to. She just didn’t want to be near him. She was tired. So she blurred to the bedroom, intending to change out of her ridiculous outfit. What was she thinking anyway? That he would remember he loved her?

She unzipped her jacket, throwing it across the room. Then she tried to take off her boots, but it was impossible. She yanked and fell over, landing hard on the floor. Then she was crying because she was stupid, and she just wanted to stop hurting.

But Alec pulled her up, off the floor and into her arms. He held her, stroking her hair, not saying anything—just waiting.

* * * *

He stepped inside the bedroom, waiting for her to yell at him, but she was too busy fighting with her boots. When he would have offered to help, she fell over instead, in an ungraceful heap.

He almost laughed then, until he realized that Max was crying. He hated her tears. He hated that he hurt her. So he went to her, needing to be near her, needing to comfort her. Even when he was holding her, she refused to look at him, sniffling into his shirt instead.

So, he placed two fingers under her chin, gently tilting her face upward, so that he could look at her. He froze then, seeing what he couldn’t see in the darkness of the garage. 

A single gold star on her cheek.

* * * *

“I’m sorry I tricked you.” Max closed her eyes, unable to meet his gaze. “You’re not ready to come to me. I don’t know if you still want to.” 

He was silent, so Max kept going. “I’m going to take some time off. Travel down the coast maybe.”

Max opened her eyes then, wondering if he would speak. She stared at him, stunned to find his green eyes had darkened, going into that mesmerizing gold.

* * * *

Max was talking, and Alec heard nothing. He was too busy staring at the gold star. Then he cupped her cheek, his hand skimming her neck, down her shoulder—

_Was that another star on her collarbone?_

He pushed the fabric off her shoulders then, revealing more gold stars, straight lines (mostly) forming a deep-V, leading to her belly button. There was nothing glittery on her dress at all. They were the gold stars underneath, hiding, waiting for him like little surprises.

He understood then, that Max wanted him, that she loved him, even if he wasn’t sure about himself. He understood that he was done waiting for the perfect moment. So he let go of the uncertainty and did what he wanted to do, what he always wanted to do. He claimed that mouth of hers, kissing her deeply, wondering why he waited so long.

* * * *

Max wasn’t expecting the kiss. Then Alec was undressing her, except he was mainly looking at the stickers. She wasn’t even sure that he noticed she was topless. His finger had trailed down one line of gold stars, stopping just above her belly button. Then he had grabbed her hips, pulled her close, before she felt his mouth on her.

She yielded then. She loved his mouth on her. She loved his hands on her. But she needed him to understand something—before they went too far.

* * * *

Max pulled away, and he was breathless again. He didn’t want to think too hard about that. But she was leaning against him, her forehead resting on his, her fingers caressing his neck, skimming his barcode.

This, he had missed this. Max just loving him without words.

But when she spoke, she reached deep inside of him, setting him free.

* * * *

She framed his face, enjoying the stubble on his cheeks, knowing he hadn’t shaved just to irritate her. Then she said what she should have said weeks ago, even when he had walked out.

“You’re right. It’s all or nothing for us. That’s how it’s always been. Love me now. I’ll breathe for you. My air is yours.”

* * * *

Alec felt a weight lift, and he heard what she didn’t say. That she wouldn’t stop him. That she would love him, even if it was the last thing they did together.

He took her hands, linking their fingers together, feeling her titanium band, knowing only one thing—

_This woman was his life._

Then he smiled, reminding her that she wasn’t off the hook—

“You still have to make an honest man out of me.” 

Max nodded solemnly, but she said nothing.

“But I want the honeymoon first.” He studied her face, watching her bite her lip.

Then she was taking off his shirt, yanking at his sweat pants. He stepped out of them, his eyes devouring her body, realizing she wasn’t wearing much.

He dropped her on the bed then, ripping off the dress, enjoying her gasp of surprise. Then he found one zipper on her boot, tugging until it came off, doing the same for the other leg.

Max was a vision, completely nude, except for the gold stars, little stickers shining at him, offering direction. He pulled at her legs, until she was just at the edge of the bed. Then he trailed kisses down her body, following the gold stars, until he reached her belly button.

He was tempted, to feast again, but he wanted to watch her. He wanted to see her face. So he kissed her right there, licking her center, enjoying just a little taste. She shuddered for him, welcoming him, welcoming his fingers inside of her.

He found a steady rhythm, finger tips brushing against her spot, sliding in and out. He used his other hand to torture her just a little bit more. He pinched gently, that little nub, before he soothed, skimming, teasing her relentlessly. He didn’t stop. He didn’t want to. 

Then she was gasping, arching into him, pleading for him.

His fingers were still on her, right there, stroking and caressing, bringing her closer to the edge. With his other hand, he kept two fingers inside of her, curled upwards, massaging, just for her, just to watch her explode. He leaned down, whispering, waiting—

“Fly for me.” 

She did. She was glorious. 

He grabbed her hips then, slamming hard, again and again. He didn’t stop, not even when he heard a loud crack, knowing it was the headboard.

_Fuck yeah._

They were breaking furniture again. 

* * * *

Max let her hand travel down his body, enjoying the feel of his skin, his muscles rippling. She threw a leg over him, straddling him, leaning down to kiss him. She waited until his eyes opened, those green eyes twinkling with love and laughter.

“Again Maxie?”

But she didn’t bother to answer him with words. She shifted her body, lowering herself slowly, watching him with heavy eyes. He was deep inside of her, but that wasn’t enough. 

He wanted to talk. Of course he did.

* * * *

“Did you hear it?” Alec stilled her hips, his grip strong. "The hitch?" 

“What hitch?” Max smiled lazily at him. “Are you dead?”

“Not today.” Then he smacked her ass, before he flipped them, pinning her, linking his fingers through hers. “Tell me. Make me feel good.”

“You are phenomenal.” Max wrapped her legs around him. “When you touch me. When you’re inside of me. No one fucks like you.” She blinked innocently. “Is that enough?”

He laughed then, knowing that she was making fun of him—but that she was serious too. “Anything else?”

Then she captured his face, teasing his mouth open, tasting him. “You want more?”

“Always.” He murmured into her mouth.

Max bit his lip, surprising him.

“I will tell the kids you made me cry.”

He pulled away then, frowning at her.

“That you came to your senses.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“That you redeemed yourself.”

He leaned down, resting his forehead on hers.

“That you love me more than air.”

Then he claimed her mouth, kissing her deeply, knowing it was true.

He loved Max more than air.


End file.
